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LONGMANS' ENGLISH CLASSICS 

EDITED BY 

GEORGE RICE CARPENTER, A.B. 

PROFESSOR OF RHETORIC AND ENGLISH COMPOSITION IN COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY 



JOHN BUNYAN 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 



ILowjmana' English (Classics 



JOHN BUNYAN'S 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

EDITED 

WITH NOTES AND AN INTRODUCTION 
BY 

CHARLES SEARS BALDWIN, Ph.D. 

ASSISTANT PROFESSOR OF RHETORIC IN TALE UNIVERSITY 




NEW YORK 
LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. 

LONDON AND BOMBAY 
1905 






OCT 23 i905 



906 



JL3, / 
ex 

*V 3. 



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Copyright, 1905, 

BY 

LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. 



THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A. 



PREFACE 

The text of this edition corresponds as closely as possible 
to that of the last edition issued by Bunyan himself. To this 
end, the facsimile reprint of the first edition has been collated 
throughout with OfFor's variorum. But spelling and punctua- 
tion have been consistently modernized in every point that 
is not significant. Thus obsolete spellings such as shew, 
and mere idiosyncrasies of punctuation, not involving the 
structure of the sentence, have been changed to conform to 
present use ; but obsolete inflections and syntax, with all their 
inconsistencies, have been carefully retained. For these latter 
have a twofold significance : they are documents both for the 
history of the language and for the style of Bunyan. 

Two other changes adapt this edition to its particular use. 
Bunyan's marginal explanations, though they are sometimes 
racy, are now quite superfluous for people accustomed to read 
currently ; and the marginal references to the Bible are equally 
superfluous for a generation well supplied with concordances. 
Moreover these marginal notes, if indeed they were used, 
might be a distraction, instead of a help, in the school study 
of literature. Therefore they have been omitted. 

The general object of the critical apparatus is that of all 
school editions, — to help students understand and appreciate. 
The particular methods are, first, to group the notes under a 
few distinct aspects, and, secondly, to stimulate, rather than 
preclude, reflection and study. ' The facility with which the 
memorizing of a few facts and a few adjectives may satisfy 
perfunctory tests still warns us to make the study of litera- 
ture both serious to the whole class and significant to the 
individual. 

C. S. B. 
Yale University, July, 1905. 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Preface v 

Introduction ix 

The Author's Apology 3 

Text of the Pilgrim's Progress 11 

Notes 

I. Note on Books of Reference .... .153 

II. Notes on Bunyan's Grammar .... . . 155 

III. Notes on Passages . . 166 

IV. Suggestions for First Recitations ..... 172 
V. Specimen Topics for Review or Examination . 174 

VI. Specimen Topics for Themes 176 

VII. Chronological Table 178 

VIII. Glossary 180 



INTRODUCTION 

I. The Pilgrim's Progress as a Classic. 

When we say that " The Pilgrim's Progress " is a classic, 
we mean that generations of readers have approved it as a 
piece of high and pure literary art; we place it among the 
books that are great for all time. But as we place it so, be- 
side " Paradise Lost," beside the " iEneid," we feel a certain 
wonder and hesitation. For "The Pilgrim's Progress" has 
two cardinal qualities that we do not usually associate with 
the classics of literature : it is religious, and it is popular. 
Very little of the great literature in any language is religious ; 
very little, like " Robinson Crusoe " and some of Shakespeare's 
comedies, is popular in the full sense of being constantly loved 
by the great mass of readers. And we must search far to find 
another classic that is both the one and the other. "The 
Pilgrim's Progress " stands almost alone among the classics in 
being both essentially religious and essentially popular. 

True, in expressing the hopes and struggles of mankind, 
many great writers have touched on things divine. Divine 
things have a large place in the "iEneid," a still larger place 
in the "Divina Commedia" and in our own "Paradise Lost." 
But these great poems are not so much religious as theological. 
They speculate on the order of the universe ; they symbolize 
abstract truths ; they even embody dogmas. " The Pilgrim's 
Progress " differs from them sharply in being a practical guide 
for daily conduct, a parable of the common journey of common 
men. Thus it is, in the literal sense, religious ; and it is almost 
our only religious classic. 

Its popularity, again, is larger than the popularity of most 
classics. It has been read for two hundred years, not only by 



x THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

all English-speaking people who have a taste for literature, but 
also by thousands who have no taste for literature and who 
may never have thought of it as literary. It was the appeal of 
a common man to common men ; and it has been really read 
and re-read, not simply heard of and admired, by plain people 
everywhere. To popularity of this kind there are few parallels. 
One thinks of "Robinson Crusoe," and then halts for another 
instance. Popularity in some degree, of course, every classic 
must have had, in order to become a classic, in order to sur- 
vive. But it was a small literary circle that fostered the fame 
of the " iEneid " in its own time, and a comparatively small 
class that kept it alive in a strange fashion through the middle 
ages. We can hardly compare ancient popularity with modern, 
because ancient writers could hardly reach what we now call 
the public, for lack of the printing press. But Milton had the 
press. He could, in something of our modern sense, appeal to 
the public. Yet his very appeal for the liberty of that press 
reached the few, not the many ; and " Paradise Lost," like the 
"iEneid," must always be the joy and admiration of the in- 
tellectually superior. It is over the heads of the crowd. 
Now it is to the crowd that Bunyan spoke. "The Pilgrim's 
Progress " is popular in the sense that it is one of the very 
few literary classics written of the people, for the people, almost 
by the people. 

II. The Pilgrim's Progress as Puritan. 

In this twofold character, religious and popular, "The 
Pilgrim's Progress " reminds us of its country and its age. It 
is a product of English Puritanism. For the Puritan move- 
ment, too wide in its significance to be expounded here, was 
at once religious and popular, both blended in one. It was a 
great effort for popular government in church and state. It 
set itself against hierarchy and monarchy alike ; it overthrew 
both the king and the bishops. The immediate practical re- 
sult in politics was the Commonwealth, and, in religion, the 
spread of the congregational organization and mode of wor- 



INTRODUCTION xi 

ship. These results, and the many others that followed from 
them, proceeded from a single, dominant Puritan principle — 
the independence of the individual man in the kingdom of 
earth and the kingdom of heaven. 

The age of Bunyan and Milton was a flood-tide for England, 
of protest, dissent, and individual assertion in religion, and, 
in politics, of popular government. John Bunyan was born 
(1628) eight years after the Pilgrims landed on Plymouth 
Rock, while the French Protestants were standing siege at La 
Rochelle, just before the German Protestants had found their 
champion in Gustavus Adolphus (1630), and in the very year 
of the English Petition of Right. He was a lad during the 
Civil War (1642-1646), a young man during the Common- 
wealth. Twelve years he was himself in prison for insisting 
on the liberty of preaching ; and he died in the year (1688) of 
the declaration of William of Orange to the English people. 

Puritanism is echoed sometimes in Bunyan's very language. 
"Conviction for sin," "awakenings for sin," "professors" of 
religion, — these words of " the language of Canaan " (page 84) 
were common religious speech in the thatched midland cottages 
at whose doors Bunyan mended pots and pans, and in the rough- 
hewn New England houses where his great book found quick 
sympathy. He speaks for the soldiers of Cromwell and of Miles 
Standish, much more for that unknown multitude who, though 
no warriors, felt the call to work out their own salvation with 
fear and trembling. He speaks for the people that could say 
unabashed, man to man, "How stands it between God and 
your soul now ? "(page 133). 

The position of such men among their " worldly " fellows, 
the feelings of each side toward the other, have never been 
more surely divined, never more vividly expressed, than by 
Bunyan. " There is a company of these crazed-headed cox- 
combs," says Mr. Obstinate (page 14), "that when they take 
a fancy by the end are wiser in their own eyes than seven 
men that can render a reason." " Too precise " (page 50), 
" some peevish or melancholy man " (page 80), — phrases 
like these continually echo what is exhibited fully in Faithful's 



Xii THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

account of Shame (pages 68, 69) and in the whole chapter 
(pages 83-91) on Vanity Fair. Sometimes, indeed, Bunyan 
seems Puritan in that less pleasing sense which brought the 
name into reproach. Many men of Bunyan's day resented in 
the Puritans that self-satisfaction and censoriousness which 
are made ridiculous in Shakespeare's Malvolio. So some 
readers have resented, as of the same temper, the dialogues 
with Talkative (pages 76-80) and Ignorance (pages 133-137). 
Something unkind, something Pharisaical, is easily seen by 
the world in those who feel bound to protest against the 
world. But whether this attitude was essential in Puritan- 
ism or not, certainly it was not essential in John Bunyan. 
Arrogance was not one of his sins. Uncompromising as the 
stiffest of them all on every point of principle, he yet shows 
in the ground of all his work a large and positive charity. 
His creed was no stronger than his love. 

For to say that in its religious and its popular character 
" Pilgrim's Progress " bespeaks its time is not to limit it by 
its time. Every piece of literature must bear the character 
of its time and its place ; but no piece of literature that 
expresses merely its own time and its own place can be 
admitted among the classics. Only the less significant traits 
of " Pilgrim's Progress " can be traced to Puritanism. The 
words that went from Bedford jail to all Christendom 1 occa- 
sionally bespeak the Puritan ; they always bespeak the genius. 



III. The Pilgrim's Progress as a Product of 
Bunyan's Life. 

1. The Outward Life {Biographical Summary). 

John Bunyan was born of Bedfordshire villagers at Elstow 
in 1628. Like his father before him, he was bred to the trade 
of a tinker. A healthful trade, a rare trade for learning men 
and women, it was also a trade in low esteem. Tinkers of 

1 Pilgrims Progress has been translated into most languages, and used 
as a book of instruction by most Christian missions. 



INTRODUCTION xiii 

that time are so often classed with vagrants that we must 
suppose them to have yielded in many cases to the tempta- 
tions of the road. Besides the education of his own eyes and 
ears, John Bunyan had hardly any throughout his life — little 
schooling, little reading, little direction of any kind. He was 
peculiarly a self-made man. Vivid childish dreams indicated 
a sensitive brain. His gift of speech appeared first in ex- 
traordinary profanity. After a little soldiering in the Civil 
Wars, he married about the age of twenty. Smitten with the 
keenest sense of sin, he endured prolonged agonies before 
gaining peace of mind. Then he entered into communion 
and fellowship with the Bedford Baptists, among whom he 
soon revealed his gift. Arrested in November, 1660, he was 
indicted at the Bedford quarter session of January, 1661, for 
" devilishly and perniciously abstaining from coming to church 
to hear divine service, and for being a common upholder of 
several unlawful meetings and conventicles to the great dis- 
turbance and distraction of the good subjects of this King- 
dom, contrary to the laws of our sovereign lord the king." 1 
Refusing to renounce the liberty of preaching, he remained 
in the Bedford county jail twelve years. On his release in 
1672 under the King's general declaration of indulgence, he 
was licensed " to be a teacher of the congregation allowed by 
us in the house of Josiah Roughed, Bedford, for the use of 
such as do not conform to the Church of England, who are 
of the persuasion commonly called Congregational." 2 His 
second imprisonment, six months (1675-6) in the town jail 
on Bedford bridge, was made memorable by the writing of 
"The Pilgrim's Progress." This was published in 1678. In 
the ten remaining years of his life he published, besides 
sermons, "The Life and Death of Mr. Badman " (1680), 
"The Holy War" (1682), and "The Pilgrim's Progress, the 
Second Part " (1684). 

1 Brown, John Bunyan, page 152. 

2 Brown, page 188. 



xiv THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

2. The Inward Life (" Grace Abounding "). 

These external events give us little clue, after all, to the great- 
ness of " The Pilgrim's Progress." Bunyan was not a man 
of action. The outward events of his life are comparatively 
insignificant. As with most really great authors, we rather 
understand the man from the book than the book from the 
man. But in Bunyan's case there is a striking exception. 
The inner life, that life of the mind which is the only signifi- 
cant life of a great author, is not merely expressed as authors 
commonly express themselves in their works ; it is also re- 
corded. "Grace Abounding" (1666) is the autobiography of 
his soul. This is in truth the life of John Bunyan, and the 
only life that tells us why he could write for all mankind. 
For this book reveals his amazing faculty of vision, his power, 
that is, to see the invisible things of the spirit. Seeing them 
as it were before his eyes, he felt them as most men feel the 
love or the loss of a friend ; he struggled to win them as most 
men struggle for money or fame. This makes the Puritan 
tinker, "of a low and inconsiderable generation," great in the 
kingdom of heaven. " Pilgrim's Progress " is at once popular 
and religious because its author was at once utterly a man of 
the people and utterly a man of God. All things were lacking 
in his life that might hinder direct and constant touch with 
ordinary men and women, with the real people of this world ; 
and he had the courage and the faith to put all things from 
him that might hinder his constant touch with the other world. 
His expression of the spiritual world is most simple and 
homely because he himself was simpler and homelier than any 
other Englishman who ever took a pen ; but it is most intense 
because he himself was a fellow-citizen with the saints. 

3. The Preaching Habit 

These two essential traits of the man, the religious and the 
popular, made him a preacher ; and his preaching in turn re- 
acted upon them, developing and enhancing them to the high- 



INTRODUCTION xv 

est. If we think of Bunyan as he thought of himself, we must 
think of him as the preacher of the spiritual life to common 
men. True, his great and abiding works are not sermons ; 
but the sermon instinct and training are behind all ; and, in a 
larger sense, there is in all his work a certain oral character, 
as if the printed words had first been spoken. Speech 
sounded in his ears and was directed to the ears rather than 
the eyes of others. 

Indeed, Bunyan's preaching habit occasionally delays the 
story of "The Pilgrim's Progress " by rather tedious sermon- 
heads, as in the reply to Ignorance (page 136) ; but such pas- 
sages are not characteristic. These occasional disputations 
are of the age rather than of the man. They are not his own 
way. He was not a reasoner. He did not know how to con- 
vince men by a logical series of paragraphs. The headings 
and sub-headings of his sermons may be merely false frame- 
work, set up because everybody about him thought that was 
the way to make a sermon. The strength of his preaching 
was not there, but in his faculty of vision and his faculty of 
speech. He pictured vividly in his own mind both things 
and thoughts; he had a seeing imagination. And to an 
equally extraordinary degree he had the gift to utter what 
he saw and felt in words that would make his hearers see 
and feel too. His gift of speech was so great that he had to 
speak. He had to express himself. No bar could stop him ; 
not ignorance, for he contrived to learn enough from the 
poorest hints ; not repression, for prison merely forced him 
to write what he would have spoken. He might well cry in 
the apostolic words, " Woe is me if I preach not." The 
faculty of vision, the faculty of spiritual emotion, above 
all the faculty of imparting both visions and emotions in 
speech, these powers appear plainly, throughout Bunyan's 
work, in three corresponding qualities. First, all his charac- 
teristic work is very concrete. It is what we now call pictur- 
esque. It is full of images. Even when he explains, he 
habitually falls into description. As his mind habitually 
turned abstract ideas into images, so his speech is habitually in 



xvi THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

terms of things actually seen. All " The Pilgrim's Progress " 
is a vision ; and this his greatest work is merely the best em- 
bodiment of his constant habit. Secondly, his appeal is not 
to the intellect, but to the feelings. Finally, all his work is 
essentially oral. Most of it that was written was first spoken. 
Much of it was never written. And even when he wrote to 
be read, instead of speaking to be heard, his forms of expres- 
sion are more oral than those of any other English writer 
except the orators. Bunyan should be read aloud. It seems 
as if he wrote aloud. 

In the only great book that Bunyan knew is the following 
passage : 

" And the Lord sent Nathan unto David. And he came unto him 
and said unto him, There were two men in one city, the one rich 
and the other poor. The rich man had exceeding many flocks and 
herds ; but the poor man had nothing save one little ewe lamb, 
which he had bought and nourished up; and it grew up together 
with him and with his children. It did eat of his own meat, and 
drank of his own cup, and lay in his bosom, and was unto him as a 
daughter. And there came a traveller unto the rich man, and he 
spared to take of his own flock and of his own herd to dress for the 
wayfaring man that was come unto him, but took the poor man's 
lamb and dressed it for the man that was come to him. And David's 
anger was greatly kindled against the man; and he said to Nathan, 
As the Lord liveth, the man that hath done this thing shall surely 
die, and he shall restore the lamb fourfold, because he did this thing, 
and because he had no pity. And Nathan said to David, Thou art 
the man." (2 Samuel xii. 1-7.) 

That is the way Bunyan preached ; and that is the way he 
wrote. 



IV. The Pilgrim's Progress as a Vision. 

We shall appreciate him more accurately, then, by consider- 
ing in detail each of his cardinal qualities ; and first, that habit 
of concrete and specific words which came from his faculty of 
" Remember," he says in the introduction to " Grace 



INTRODUCTION xvii 

Abounding," " your tears and prayers to God, yea, how you 
sighed under every hedge for mercy . . . Have you forgot the 
close, the milk-house, the stable, the barn . . . where God did 
visit your souls ? " By such terms as these the appeal is 
direct and immediate. They make the hearer feel by making 
him see. It is so always. He makes mental states real by 
making them almost visible and tangible. With him a figure 
of speech is not merely a form of expression ; it is the form of 
expression. He sees it in his mind ; it takes shape ; and as 
he sees it, so he utters it. " By these things my mind was 
now so turned that it lay like a horse-leech at the vein, still 
crying out, ' Give, give.' " * Or again : — 

" I often, when these temptations had been with force upon me, 
did compare myself to the case of such a child whom some gypsy 
hath by force took up in her arms, and is carrying from friend and 
country. Kick sometimes I did, and also shriek and cry ; but yet 
I was bound in the wings of the temptation, and the wind would 
carry me away." 2 

These concrete, specific, figurative forms of expression are 
not added to illustrate or adorn. They express the thought 
faithfully as he thought it. For him to think was to see. His 
power of vision is not the mastery of a literary device ; it is 
the development of a habit born in his brain. No one can 
doubt that the images in which he presents the spiritual 
experiences of "Grace Abounding" are not chosen to illus- 
trate that experience, but are the very facts of the experience 
itself. 

" I could also," he says earnestly at the end of his introduction, 
" have stepped into a style much higher than this . . . and could 
have adorned all things more than here I have seemed to do ; but 
I dare not. God did not play in tempting of me ; neither did I play 
when I sunk as into the bottomless pit, when the pangs of hell caught 
hold upon me. Wherefore I may not play in relating of them, but 
be plain and simple, and lay down the thing as it was." 

Therefore we may confidently accept as faithful, literal 

1 Grace Abounding. 

2 Ibid. 



xvili THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

record the many passages such as the following, and see in 
them what a brain was his instrument : — 

" At last, when I was as it were quite worn out with fear lest it 
should not lay hold on me, these words did sound suddenly within 
my heart: 'He is able.' But methought this word able was spoke 
loud unto me. It showed a great word; it seemed to be writ in 
great letters." 

Remarkable as this seeing imagination is in itself, it is no 
more remarkable than its close associations with his gift of 
speech. As he thinks, he sees; and as he sees, he hears 
words or wishes to utter them. There is the physical basis of 
Bunyan's genius, the brain that could speak so that all men 
might see. 1 

" Grace Abounding," indeed, is in every way the best com- 
mentary on Bunyan. It even records, among his earlier 
experiences, one that not only typifies the mental habits 
which underlay his peculiar literary power, but also seems 
like the nucleus of "The Pilgrim's Progress." 

" About this time, the state and happiness of these poor people at 
Bedford was thus, in a kind of vision, presented to me. I saw as if 
they were on the sunny side of some high mountain, there refreshing 
themselves with the pleasant beams of the sun, while I was shivering 
and shrinking in the cold, afflicted with frost, snow, and dark clouds. 
Methought also, betwixt me and them, 1 saw a wall that did compass 
about this mountain. Now through this wall my soul did greatly de- 
sire to pass, concluding that if I could, I would even go into the very 
midst of them, and there also comfort myself with the heat of their 
sun. 

" About this wall I bethought myself to go again and again, still 

1 Professor Royce, in an investigation of the widest interest, has trans- 
lated Grace Abounding into the terms of modern psychology. The record 
should be read entire ; but a brief quotation will suggest its drift. 
"Automatic internal vision . . . with extraordinary detail and with 
strong emotional accompaniment ... a frequent incident in Bunyan's 
inner life . . . became the main source of his peculiar artistic power." 
And, again, rejecting the theory of hallucination, he interprets Bunyan's 
torments as systematized, insistent motor speech-functions. ( Josiah Royce : 
The Case of John Bunyan, Psychological Review, vol. i. (1894), pages 22, 
134, 230.) 



INTRODUCTION xix 

prying as I went, to see if I could find some way or passage by which 
I might enter therein ; but none could I find for some time. At the 
last I saw, as it were, a narrow gap, like a little door-way in the wall, 
through which I attempted to pass. Now ths passage being very 
strait and narrow, I made many efforts to get in, but all in vain, even 
until I was well nigh quite beat out by striving to get in. At last, 
with great striving, methought I at first did get in my head, and after 
that, by a sidling striving, my shoulders and my whole body. Then 
I was exceeding glad, went and sat down in the midst of them, and 
so was comforted with the light and heat of their sun." 

1. A Vision True to Bunyan's Imagination. 

When we thus comprehend that Bunyan's allegory was not 
a literary method deliberately adopted for literary effect, but 
the expression by a born speaker of the images in which he 
habitually thought, we understand better why " The Pilgrim's 
Progress " has been, and is still, and perhaps always will be, 
more popular than any other allegory ever written. 1 Allegory 
has sometimes been more popular as a literary form than it is 
now ; but always it risks the loss of popular appeal when it 
seems artificial. " The Faery Queene " is a beautiful allegory, 
beloved by poets and by many readers of poetical sensibility, 
admired by every one of literary taste. Why has it never 
become popular? Because the Red Cross Knight and Una 
and Duessa and the other personages are figures delicately 
contrived by Spenser to symbolize certain virtues and vices, 
not seen by Spenser in his own mind as real persons ; because 
the combats are shadowy and artificial, not distinct and real. 

1 The question of Bunyan's possible indebtedness to literary sources for 
the idea and method of The Pilgrim's Progress is discussed arid, dismissed in 
Brown's twelfth chapter. All the literary evidence and all the facts of 
Bunyan's life are against the supposition of any debt whatever. The two 
commonest allegories of human life, as Professor Dowden says {Puritan and 
Anglican, page 248), are, first that it is a pilgrimage, second that it is a 
warfare. The one is the basis of The Pilgrim's Progress ; the other, of The 
Holy War. If Bunyan derived them from anything but common fancy, 
he derived them from the Bible. Nor has his method any essential resem- 
blance to that of any other treatment of these world-old ideas. 



XX THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

But Bunyan's images, whether of persons or of actions or of 
feelings, are the main facts of his life. They were as actual 
to him as the tools of his tinkering trade. He was a common 
man, speaking the common speech ; Spenser was an aristocrat, 
speaking the language of the court. There is the other 
important reason for the difference. But the main reason is 
that Bunyan's realization of things unseen is not made by 
literary contrivance, but born of reality. 1 

2. A Vision True to Bunyan's Observation. 

To his extraordinary realization of his own mental images 
was added an intimate knowledge of other men. Though his 
inner life, as has been said, determined his habits and char- 
acter to a very unusual degree, though it was by far the 
greater part of him, yet it was not all. He was not a recluse. 

1 A far closer comparison may be made with the allegory Everyman ; 
for that is a kind of Pilgrim's Progress for the stage. Everyman, a fif- 
teenth-century English version of a Dutch drama bearing the same name, 
is what is known as a morality play, a play, that is, in which the virtues 
and vices walk the stage as persons. Everyman himself, as his name im- 
plies, is the personification of human nature. Summoned in the midst of 
his sins by grim Death, he appeals piteously, for help in his last journey, 
to all those in whom he trusted. But gay Felloioship turns his back, 
Kindred is unkind, Goods will give nothing. Only Good Deeds is willing ; 
and she is too weak to go. By her advice consulting Knowledge and Con- 
fession, he is finally supported by Strength and Discretion to meet the dread 
Angel. The play was probably popular for a while, and, as revived in our own 
day, has moved a few modern audiences profoundly. But it was forgotten 
altogether for centuries, and to the great public was never known. Yet it 
tells substantially the same eternal story as The Pilgrim's Progress by sub- 
stantially the same method, allegory. The difference here is somewhat the 
same as the difference between Bunyan and Spenser, but not altogether. 
The symbolic figures are distinct enough to have pretty definite parts on 
the stage ; and even in reading the play one realizes them more distinctly 
than he can realize the personages of The Faery Queene. But they are less 
distinct than Bunyan's because they are, after all, personages rather than 
persons. We still remember that they are figures, not real people. Goods, 
for example, is a sort of speaking idol surrounded by symbols of avarice. 
But Bunyan's Mr. Demas, of the hill Lucre (page 99), seems more than a 
personification of avarice. He seems a human being. 



INTRODUCTION xxi 

He was a common workman, with a family to support by 
a trade that took him to the doors of all sorts of common 
men. He was a preacher, not writing for unknown readers, 
but speaking to the feelings and wills of particular people. It 
was by the practical effort to bring peace to other men's 
souls that he confirmed peace in his own. 1 He knew the 
people to whom he preached. 2 He counselled them as their 
brother and pastor. He talked more than he preached. He 
preached and talked more than he wrote. He dealt every 
day with sin and repentance, hope, despair, selfishness, 
fickleness, faith, — not as they are presented in books, not 
merely as he saw them in himself, but as he actually found 
them in this man and that woman. So the men and women in 
" The Pilgrim's Progress," though they are made by an extraor- 
dinary imagination, are made out of close observation. He 
made them, not out of himself, but out of the real men and 
women of Bedfordshire. Few novels have more convincing 
pieces of characterization than the episode of Mr. By-Ends 
(pages 94-97) or the trial of Faithful (pages 87-91). 8 



1 Royce, Psychological Eevieiv, i. 239. 

2 Grace Abounding. 

3 That Bunyan was no novelist any one may satisfy himself by reading 
Mr. Badman. Nevertheless, in spite of its tediousness as a story, Mr^ 
Badman gives abundant proof of the breadth, accuracy, and intimacy of 
Bunyan's acquaintance with the twistings of human character. Indeed, 
the book fails, not merely from being too sermonizing, but from being too 
documentary. It is a series of bare human facts without the vivifying of his 
imagination; but it is documentary proof, if any were needed, of his wide 
knowledge of human nature outside of himself. "Yet have I as little as 
may be." he says in the preface, ''gone out of the road of mine own 
observation of things. Yea, I think I may truly say, to the best of my 
remembrance, all the things that I here discourse of, I mean as to matters 
of fact, have been acted upon the stage of this world even many times 
before mine eyes." The difference between Pilgrim's Progress and Mr. 
Badman is in artistic imagination. The former is idealized and so made 
universally appealing ; the latter is merely stated and explained, as on the 
witness stand. But both reveal the eye that saw into other men as well as 
into himself, 



xxii THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

V. The Pilgrim's Progress as Emotional. 

The second characteristic of Bunyan's work, his power over 
the emotions, follows naturally from the first. He could make 
men feel with him because he could make them see with him. 
Emotional effects come from concrete expression. Abstrac- 
tions and generalizations leave us cold. It is the concrete, 
the language of Nathan to David, that goes to our hearts. 

This book is writ in such a dialect 

As may the minds of listless men affect (page 9). 

Moreover, Bunyan's appeal to feeling was in another way a 
necessity of his nature, in that he could not appeal much to 
reason. His thoughts did not move logically ; and he had no 
logical training. Ideas with him were hardly seen and fol- 
lowed, but rather felt and passionately held. 1 It was no course 
of doctrine or chain of reasons that he got from the Bible, but 
only a throng of texts that seemed to struggle within him. 
"Apiece of a sentence," he writes in "Grace Abounding," 
" darted in upon me ; " and, a few pages later : 

" ' Lord,' thought I, ' if both these scriptures should meet in my 
heart at once, I wonder which would get the better of me.' So nie- 
thought I had a longing mind that they might come both together 
upon me. Yea, I desired of God they might. "Well, about two or 
three days after, so they did indeed. They bolted both upon me at a 
time, and did work and struggle strongly in me for a while. At 
last that, about Esau's birthright, began to wax weak, and withdraw, 
and vanish ; and this, about the sufficiency of grace, prevailed with 
peace and joy." 

This is hardly an intellectual process; it is almost pure 
feeling. 

And in a higher sense we must seek the source of his power 
to make others feel in the intensity of his own experience. 
From his inward agonies and triumph, from going down him- 
self, as he says, into the deep, he learned how to stir men's 

1 See Tulloch, English Puritanism and Its Leaders, page 420, and 
Royce, as above. 



INTRODUCTION xxiii 

souls. The dark first part of " Grace Abounding " explains 
that moving power of which he writes so explicitly, though so 
modestly, in the last part. His power to stir spiritual emo- 
tions came from his own enlarged spiritual capacity. 1 

VI. The Pilgrim's Progress as Colloquial. 

Finally, Bunyan's style is oral. This third quality, closely 
related to its concreteness and its emotional character, sum- 
ming up at once its religious and its popular significance, may 
even be called his distinctive note. For it runs through 
all his expression. That his life was preaching, that much 
of his written work was first spoken, has already been said, 
and also that his strongest native impulse was speech. It 
may well be remembered also that even when his works seem 
furthest from preaching he often writes in a kind of dramatic 
dialogue. But, more widely, his characteristic work sounds 
less like writing than like talk. It is homely and familiar — 
and no other author seems quite so homely, quite so familiar 
— because it is in the literal sense colloquial. His diction 
follows with fearless simplicity the ways of common speech. 
It is not literary in the ordinary sense ; it is even illiterate, 
for his many revisions of " The Pilgrim's Progress " left it in 
many places incorrect ; it is simply what a genius made of the 
actual every-day talk of the street. 

1 "To me the writings of John Bunyan have been and are more and 
more as the odour of a field which the Lord hath blessed, redolent of that 
goodness and sweetness, that unworldiness and love of Christ, that humility 
and horror of sin, which I take to mark the presence of the spirit of God, 
even in the midst of much human infirmity and delusion. It is not easy 
for au Englishman, Catholic or Protestant, who understands Bunyan, to 
read him with dry eyes and without feeling his heart softened to impres- 
sions of grace." — Joseph Rickaby, St. Ignatius and John Bunyan, 
American Catholic Quarterly Review, volume 27, page 295. 

Bunyan's kinship of spirit with many whose spiritual environment was 
utterly different is suggested by a passage in Grace Abounding which 
reminds one of St. Francis and St. Cuthbert: "I thought I could have 
spoken of his love and have told of his mercy to me even to the very crows 
that sat upon the ploughed lands before me." 



xxiv THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

1. Proverbial. 

Obvious instances of the colloquial habit may be found on 
almost every page in his use of racy popular proverbs. They 
are worth collecting as picturesque summaries of the worldly 
wisdom of our ancestors. Some of them are still current 
to-day. 

A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush (page 31). 

Every fat must stand upon his own bottom (page 38). 

A saint abroad and a devil at home (page 74). 

A waterman, looking one way and rowing another (page 92). 

" The Pilgrim's Progress " has many another ; and as many 
more may be found in "Mr. Badman." 

It is ill puddling in a cockatrice's den. 

They run hazards that hunt the wild boar. 

All was fish that came to his net. 

Hedges have eyes, and little pitchers have ears. 

The bird in the air knows not the notes of the bird in the snare. 

Penny wise and pound foolish. 

Like to like, quoth the devil to the collier. 

These are the speech of oral tradition. 

2. Homely. 

Quite like it is Bunyan's own homeliness. "As for those 
that made boggle and stop at things," he says in " Mr. Bad- 
man," " and that could not in conscience, and for fear of death 
and judgment, do such things as he, he would call them fools 
and noddies, and charge them with being frighted with the 
talk of unseen bugbears." And again, " Fluster and huff and 
make ado for a while he may ; but God hath determined that 
both he and it shall melt like grease." One of the prettiest 
instances is the figure at page 77 : "Some cry out against sin 
even as the mother cries out against the child in her lap, when 
she calleth it slut and naughty girl, and then falls to hugging 
and kissing it." "The Pilgrim's Progress" is full of such 



INTRODUCTION xxv 

phrases ; and everybody recognizes them as characteristic of 
Bunyan's style. 1 

The direct homeliness and concreteness is sometimes strong 
at the expense of elegance. 

" But this consideration I then only had when God gave me leave 
to swallow my spittle. Otherwise the noise and strength and force 
of these temptations would drown ... all such thoughts." 2 "L 
would in these days . . . even flounce towards the promise, as horses 
do toward sound ground that yet stick in the mire." 2 

Some readers are startled at "gallons of blood " (page 132), 
or disgusted at his enlarging upon the scriptural figure of 
vomit (page 140). For Bunyan's style has some of the faults, 
as well as all the virtue, of common speech. It is rather 
strong than nice. But alike in its great force and its little 
nicety, it is thoroughly communal. It is the nearest approach 
in our literature to the very voice of the people. 

3. Unliterary. 

Thus to be as it were the inspired mouthpiece for common 
English speech was perhaps less Bunyan's choice than his 
necessity. He hardly knew any other diction. He made 
literature unconsciously ; for he was anything but a man of 
letters. Without laying undue stress on the fact that at 
thirty he was still an illiterate tinker, it is but emphasizing 
the essential character of his education to say that he was 
almost independent of books. When we remember how far 
even the most original authors have formed their styles upon 
their reading, we must see in Bunyan a startling exception. 

1 So in his sermons: e. g., "The Pharisee did carry the bell and did 
wear the garland for religion ; the publican was counted vile and base and 
reckoned among the worst of men, even as our informers and bum-bailiffs 
are with us at this day. The publican was a Jew ; but he fell in with the 
heathen, and took the advantage of their tyranny to pole, to peel, to rob and 
impoverish his brethren. The one was an open outside sinner ; the other, 
a filthy inside one." A Discourse upon the Pharisee and the Publican 
(1685) ; quoted by Brown, page 353. 

2 Grace Abounding. 



xxvi THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Not that authors learn style by copying, or that they habitu- 
ally neglect common speech, for in this respect authors vary 
widely ; but that the thoughts and expression of literary men 
move habitually by literary associations. But Bunyan's mind 
had so extraordinarily few literary associations to work upon 
that it moved naturally by the oral associations of common 
speech. That fact, for it is a fact, explains almost by itself 
why his style, more constantly than any other great author's, 
is thoroughly oral and popular. Undoubtedly he meant it to 
be so; but undoubtedly he could not, without violating all 
truth of expression, have made it otherwise. 

(a) Hardly Biblical. 

Of course Bunyan did know one book exceptionally well. 
He knew the English Bible. He thumbed it from cover to 
cover. He read it daily. He almost lived on it. He knew 
much of it by heart ; for he quotes widely from memory. The 
English Bible, then, must have influenced his style. So to 
some degree it did. But the inference, made by most critics, 
that he formed his style on the Bible, is quite too large. The 
point is worth investigation, for the better understanding of a 
great and singular genius. To begin with, we should not for- 
get that many passages in Bunyan which at first suggest our 
Bible do so simply because they belong to the same century. 
We hastily call them Biblical because they seem somewhat 
archaic. Now the English Bible was occasionally archaic even 
for its own time, because the translators deliberately retained 
some passages from older versions. Moreover, their transla- 
tion was made seventeen years before Bunyan was born ; and 
the language was changing more rapidly then than it changes 
now. But, making due allowance for these facts, we may still 
convince ourselves by comparison that many of the so-called 
Biblical phrases in Bunyan are common seventeenth-century 
English. 

Further, we must determine whether the style of the Bible 
much influenced the style of Bunyan by studying just how, 



INTR OB UC TION xxvil 

How does Bunyan use the Bible % In a word, he uses it, not 
as a literary model, but as any preacher uses it to-day, — by 
quotation. All his work is full of quotations, not only texts 
quoted entire, but phrases inserted verbatim or adapted to the 
construction of his own sentences. They are, as it were, sewed 
on rather than woven in. They are readily distinguishable 
from his own texture. For his own style remains distinct and 
different. Almost any page of " The Pilgrim's Progress " will 
show this two-fold character. As in a mixture of oil and vinegar, 
the two elements mingle without uniting. When Bunyan is 
quoting, he is not like the Bible ; he is the Bible. When he 
is not quoting, he is not like the Bible ; he is like common 
speech. From the very nature of his subjects his quotations 
from the Bible are exceptionally frequent ; but their effect on 
his own style is no less exceptionally small. No man of letters 
using the Bible so much and so exclusively could well have 
felt its style so little. The last thing in the Bible that affected 
Bunyan was its style. To him its subject was too overwhelm- 
ing to leave much room for other impressions. To him it was 
simply the word of God. But for a few sentences of his, 1 we 
could hardly be sure that he was even aware it had a style. 

One of the surest and most delicate tests is his susceptibil- 
ity to its rhythm and other harmonies. Every fine style has 
its rhythms, cadences, and recurrences, subtly and almost un- 
consciously expressing the author's mood. And the influence 
of the Bible style on other styles is clearest in this one quality. 
Take two instances widely different : Sir Thomas Browne and 
John Buskin both echo at impassioned moments' the grand 
cadences of the English translation of the minor prophets. 
But Bunyan seems rather deaf to these. His rhythms seem 
very slightly affected by the rhythms of the English Bible. 2 

1 For instance, in the Author's Apology (page 6) : 

Am I afraid to say that Holy Writ, 

Which for its style and phrase puts down all wit, etc. 

2 This in spite of Professor Dowden's assertion {Puritan and Anglican, 
page 249) that "their music lived within the cells of his fancy," whatever 
that may mean. 



xxviii THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Rather they are the simpler, more spontaneous rhythms of 
communal emotion, the prose poetry of common feeling. 1 To 
put the matter simply, his style is not Biblical ; for he sings 
another tune. 

4. Alliterative. 

As if to confirm our conclusion that Bunyan's style was not 
formed on the English Bible, he has another trait which, 
though not much marked by critics, is none the less remark- 
able. His style is highly alliterative. Rhythm seems to have 
meant little to him, and the rhythms of the English Bible still 
less • but alliteration evidently meant much. His associations 
of words seem to have sprung less from cadence and measure 
than from initial sounds. Both kinds of recurrence, both 
rhythm and alliteration, may be plainly traced in classic 
English prose as elements of its harmony, and had a great 
deal more, doubtless, to do with the actual composition than 
we are wont to assume. 2 But in Bunyan's mind rhythm 
seems to have meant comparatively little, and alliteration 
correspondingly much. 

" So Christian turned out of his way to go to Mr. Legality's /louse 
for /telp ; but be/iold, when he was now got /tard by the Mil, it seemed 
so Mgh, and also that side of it that was next the wayside did Tiang 
so much over, that Christian was afraid to venture further, lest the 
Mil should fall on his /lead " (page 21). This case is rather harsh ; 
and so are the following : " After a kittle laying of Zetters together, 
he found . . . that was the pillar of salt into which Lot's wife was 
turned when she was going to /Sodom for safety, which sudden and 
amazing sight," etc. (page 101). " I cannot tell who to compare 
them to so fitly as to them that ^ick pockets in the presence of the 

1 Some readers will find incidental corroboration of this in occasional 
metrical rhythms, such as "neither afraid of the chain nor cage, nor yet 
of bloody death " (page 108), and will remember Charles Dickens. At 
page 58 is an accidental couplet : 

Back, back ! and we would have you to do so too, 
If either life or peace is prized by you. 

2 See R. L. Stevenson's essay, Some Technical Elements of Style in 
Literature. 



INTRODUCTION xxix 

judge, or that will cut purses under the gallows. It is said of the 
men of /Sodom that they were sinners exceedingly because they were 
sinners before the Lord" (page 102). The latter alliteration is 
adopted from the Bible, but increased. Giant Despair u #etteth him 
a grievous crab-tree cudgel, and </oes down " (page 106). Little- 
Faith " was one of the weak, and therefore he went to the walls " 
(page 120). Quotations might easily be multiplied; but the last 
one gives the clue. "Went to the walls" is a proverbial phrase. 
Bunyan's speech is highly proverbial ; and English proverbial ex- 
pressions are quite commonly alliterative. It was very probably his 
intimacy with common speech that made his associations habitually 
alliterative ; or, to put it the other way, his alliteration is one of the 
signs that his style is oral. 

When Bunyan wrote "he espied a/oul 7?end coming over 
the y£eld" (page 54) he echoed a traditional combination 
of words almost as old as English ; and he echoed it almost 
certainly from oral tradition. Here is a link in the unseen 
chain of human speech suddenly made visible. It suggests 
how intensely national, how intensely English, is this man who, 
receiving his mother tongue from his mother's lips, handed on 
what he had received, — not English changed or fixed by 
books, but English spoken by the forefathers. 

We cannot regard as accidental, then, the likeness of certain 
finer passages to the older English poetry, and even sometimes 
to the very staves of oldest English : " Thus man, while blind, 
doth wander, but wearieth himself with vanity ; for he know- 
eth not the way to the city of God " (" Grace Abounding "). 
"jPear /ollowed me so hard that I^ed the next way " (page 
17). And the lovely opening of this great vision recalls the 
opening of another vision, written three centuries before for 
common men in the common speech by another English 
prophet, — the "Vision of Piers Plowman." "As I walked," 
says the Pilgrim — 

As I walked through the wilderness of this world, 
I lighted on a certain place where was a den. 
And I kid me down in that place to sleep ; 
And as I slept I dreamed a dream (page 11). 



xxx THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Now hear the far voice of the ploughman : 

I was wery forwandred, and went me to reste 
Under a ferode frank by a frornes side. 
And as I lay and Jened and Joked in the wateres, 
I slombered in a slepyng, it sweyved so merye. 

No, in the last analysis, Bunyan's style is as unliterary as 
possible, as uninfluenced by literature, as true to the ways of 
common spoken speech, — in a word, as oral as any style that 
was ever put into a book. It is the speech of a genius ; but it 
is still common speech. It is common speech transmuted by 
an intense originality. As the artistic expressive instinct of 
other authors uses their literary inheritance in ways so indi- 
vidual as to show their own creative originality, so Bunyan 
used the popular oral inheritance. There is his originality. 
He used the common speech ; but he used it as it had never 
been used before. He talked like Tom, Dick, and Harry ; but 
he talked as they could never dream of talking, in that he 
talked like himself. 



VII. The Pilgrim's Progress as Eminently Sincere. 

Perhaps it is not insisting too much to add that only so 
could he have talked like himself. He could hardly have 
talked like books without turning aside to think of style. 
Books are so large a part of the lives of most authors that 
literary diction can pass into their styles naturally, without 
deliberate artifice ; books were so small a part of his life that 
they could not well have passed into his style without con- 
scious effort to make style. Any such effort would have vio- 
lated his sincerity. Sincerity is the touchstone of all great 
style ; but in Bunyan it is so nearly pure as almost to consti- 
tute his greatness. His style is so nearly a pure medium, so 
nearly the absolute, unaffected expression of himself, that one 
can hardly refrain from calling it perfect. Its crowning merit 
is that it cannot long be thought of as style. Come to him as 



INTRODUCTION xxxi 

you will ; examine his expression critically as a work of art ; 
you will not be long in forgetting everything but his message. 
He compels you to forget his language, to forget himself, to 
forget everything but the unseen things which are eternal. 
His style is a moral victory. Born an artist, he spent his life 
in sacrificing his art to the glory of God and the salvation of 
men. That is why " The Pilgrim's Progress " is at once our 
great religious and our great popular classic. 



THE 

Pilgrim's Progrefs 

FROM 

THIS WORLD 

TO 

That which is to come: 

Delivered under the Similitude of a 

DREAM 

Wherein is Difcovered, 

The manner of his fetting out, 

His Dangerous Journey ; And fafe 

Arrival at the Defired Countrey. 

/ have ufed Similitudes, Hof. I 2. I o. 

By John Bunyan. 

&icenfeb cmb (Bnfreb according to &toex 

LONDON, 

Printed for Natb. Ponder at the Peacock 
in the Poultrey near Cornhil, 1678. 



THE 

AUTHOR'S APOLOGY 
FOE HIS BOOK 



When at the first I took my pen in hand 
Thus for to write, I did not understand 
That I at all should make a little book 
In such a mode. Nay, I had undertook 
To make another, which, when almost done, 
Before I was aware I this begun. 

And thus it was : I, writing of the way 
And race of saints in this our gospel-day, 
Fell suddenly into an allegory 
About their journey and the way to glory, 
In more than twenty things, which I set down. 
This done, I twenty more had in my crown ; 
And they again began to multiply, 
Like sparks that from the coals of fire do fly. 
Nay, then, thought I, if that you breed so fast, 
I Tl put you by yourselves, lest you at last 
Should prove ad infinitum, and eat out 
The book that I already am about. 

Well, so I did ; but yet I did not think 
To show to all the world my pen and ink 
In such a mode. I only thought to make 
I knew not what. Nor did I undertake 
Thereby to please my neighbor ; no, not I ; 
I did it my own self to gratify. 

Neither did I but vacant seasons spend 
In this my scribble ; nor did I intend 
But to divert myself, in doing this, 
From worser thoughts, which make me do amiss. 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Thus I set pen to paper with delight, 
And quickly had my thoughts in black and white. 
For, having now my method by the end, 
Still as I pull'd, it came ; and so I penned 
It down, until it came at last to be, 
For length and breadth, the bigness which you see. 

Well, when I had thus put mine ends together, 
I show'd them others, that I might see whether 
They would condemn them, or them justify. 
And some said, Let them live ; some, Let them die. 
Some said, John, print it ; others said, Not so. 
Some said, It might do good ; others said, No. 

Now was I in a strait, and did not see 
Which was the best thing to be done by me. 
At last I thought, Since ye are thus divided, 
I print it will ; and so the case decided. 

For, thought I, some I see would have it done, 
Though others in that channel do not run. 
To prove, then, who advised for the best, 
Thus I thought fit to put it to the test. 

I further thought, if now I did deny 
Those that would have it thus, to gratify, 
I did not know but hinder them I might 
Of that which would to them be great delight. 

For those which were not for its coming forth, 
I said to them, Offend you I am loth ; 
Yet since your brethren pleased with it be, 
Forbear to j udge, till you do further see. 

If that thou wilt not read, let it alone. 
Some love the meat ; some love to pick the bone. 
Yea, that I might them better palliate, 
I did too with them thus expostulate : 

May I not write in such a style as this ? 
In such a method too, and yet not miss 
My end, thy good ? Why may it not be done ? 
Dark clouds bring waters, when the bright bring none. 



THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY 5 

Yea, dark or bright, if they their silver drops 
Cause to descend, the earth, by yielding crops, 
Gives praise to both, and carpeth not at either, 
But treasures up the fruit they yield together ; 
Yea, so commixes both that in their fruit 
None can distinguish this from that. They suit 
Her well when hungry ; but if she be full, 
She spews out both, and makes their blessings null. 

You see the ways the fisherman doth take 
To catch the fish, what engines doth he make. 
Behold how he engageth all his wits, 
Also his snares, lines, angles, hooks, and nets. 
Yet fish there be that neither hook nor line, 
Nor snare, nor net, nor engine can make thine. 
They must be groped for, and be tickled too, 
Or they will not be catcht, whate'er you do. 

How does the fowler seek to catch his game 
By divers means, all which one cannot name ? 
His guns, his nets, his lime-twigs, light and bell. 
He creeps, he goes, he stands ; yea, who can tell 
Of all his postures 1 Yet there 's none of these 
Will make him master of what fowls he please. 
Yea, he must pipe and whistle, to catch this; 
Yet if he does so, that bird he will miss. 

If that a pearl may in a toad's head dwell, 
And may be found too in an oyster-shell ; 
If things that promise nothing do contain 
What better is than gold ; who will disdain, 
That have an inkling of it, there to look, 
That they may find it. Now my little book, 
Though void of all these paintings that may make 
It with this or the other man to take, 
Is not without those things that do excel 
What do in brave but empty notions dwell. 

" Well, yet I am not fully satisfied . 
That this your book will stand, when soundly tried." 

Why, what 's the matter ? " It is dark." What though 1 
" But it is feigned." What of that ? I trow 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Some men by feigned words, as dark as mine, 
Make truth to spangle, and its rays to shine. 

" But they want solidness." Speak, man, thy mind. 
"They drown the weak ; metaphors make us blind." 

Solidity, indeed, becomes the pen 
Of him that writeth things divine to men ; 
But must I needs want solidness because 
By metaphors I speak 1 Were not God's laws, 
His gospel laws, in olden time held forth 
By types, shadows, and metaphors 1 Yet loth 
Will any sober man be to find fault 
With them, lest he be found for to assault 
The highest wisdom. No, he rather stoops, 
And seeks to find out what, by pins and loops, 
By calves and sheep, by heifers and by rams, 
By birds and herbs, and by the blood of lambs, 
God speaketh to him ; and happy is he 
That finds the light and grace that in them be. 

Be not too forward, therefore, to conclude 
That I want solidness, that I am rude. 
All things solid in show not solid be. 
All things in parable despise not we, 
Lest things most hurtful lightly we receive, 
And things that good are of our souls bereave. 

My dark and cloudy words they do but hold 
The truth, as cabinets inclose the gold. 

The prophets used much by metaphors 
To set forth truth. Yea, who so considers 
Christ, his apostles too, shall plainly see, 
That truths to this day in such mantles be. 

Am I afraid to say that Holy Writ, 
Which for its style and phrase puts down all wit, 
Is everywhere so full of all these things, 
Dark figures, allegories 1 Yet there springs 
From that same book, that lustre, and those rays 
Of light, that turns our darkest nights to days. 



THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY 

Come, let my carper to his life now look, 
And find there darker lines than in my book 
He findeth any. Yea, and let him know 
That in his best things there are worse lines too. 

May we but stand before impartial men, 
To his poor one I dare adventure ten, 
That they will take my meaning in these lines 
Far better than his lies in silver shrines. 
Come, truth, although in swaddling-clouts, I find 
Informs the judgment, rectifies the mind, 
Pleases the understanding, makes the will 
Submit. The memory too it doth fill 
With what doth our imaginations please. 
Likewise it tends our troubles to appease. 

Sound words, I know, Timothy is to use, 
And old wives' fables he is to refuse ; 
But yet grave Paul him nowhere doth forbid 
The use of parables, in which lay hid 
That gold, those pearls, and precious stones that were 
Worth digging for, and that with greatest care. 

Let me add one word more. O man of God, 
Art thou offended ? Dost thou wish I had 
Put forth my matter in another dress ? 
Or that I had in things been more express 1 
To those that are my betters, as is fit, 
Three things let me propound ; then I submit. 

1. I find not that I am denied the use 
Of this my method, so I no abuse 
Put on the words, things, readers, or be rude 
In handling figure or similitude, 
In application, but, all that I may, 
Seek the advance of truth this or that way. 
Denied, did I say 1 Nay, I have leave 
(Example too, and that from them that have 
God better pleased, by their words or ways, 
Than any man that breatheth now a-days) 
Thus to express my mind, thus to declare 
Things unto thee that excellentest are. 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

2. I find that men as high as trees will write 
Dialogue-wise ; yet no man doth them slight 
For writing so. Indeed, if they abuse 
Truth, cursed be they, and the craft they use 
To that intent ; but yet let truth be free 

To make her sallies upon thee and me, 
Which way it pleases God : for who knows how, 
Better than he that taught us first to plough, 
To guide our minds and pens for his design 1 
And he makes base things usher in divine. 

3. I find that Holy Writ, in many places, 
Hath semblance with this method, where the cases 
Do call for one thing to set forth another. 

Use it I may, then, and yet nothing smother 
Truth's golden beams ; nay, by this method may 
Make it cast forth its rays as light as day. 

And now, before I do put up my pen, 
I '11 show the profit of my book, and then 
Commit both thee and it unto that hand 
That pulls the strong down, and makes weak ones stand. 

This book it chalketh out before thine eyes 
The man that seeks the everlasting prize. 
It shows you whence he comes, whither he goes, 
What he leaves undone, also what he does. 
It also shows you how he runs, and runs, 
Till he unto the gate of glory comes. 

It shows, too, who sets out for life amain, 
As if the lasting crown they would attain. 
Here also you may see the reason why 
They lose their labor, and like fools do die. 

This book will make a traveller of thee, 
If by its counsel thou wilt ruled be. 
It will direct thee to the Holy Land, 
If thou wilt its directions understand. 
Yea, it will make the slothful active be ; 
The blind also delightful things to see. 



THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY 

Art thou for something rare and profitable ? 
Or would'st thou see a truth within a fable ? 
Art thou forgetful ? Wouldest thou remember 
From New- Year's day to the last of December 1 
Then read my fancies. They will stick like burrs, 
And may be, to the helpless, comforters. 

This book is writ in such a dialect 
As may the minds of listless men affect. 
It seems a novelty, and yet contains 
Nothing but sound and honest gospel strains. 

Would'st thou divert thyself from melancholy ? 
Would'st thou be pleasant, yet be far from folly 1 
Wourld'st thou read riddles, and their explanation ? 
Or else be drowned in thy contemplation ? 
Dost thou love picking meat 1 Or would'st thou see 
A man i' the clouds and hear him speak to thee ? 
Would'st thou be in a dream, and yet not sleep ? 
Or would'st thou in a moment laugh and weep ? 
Wouldest thou lose thyself and catch no harm, 
And find thyself again without a charm ? 
Would'st read thyself, and read thou know'st not what, 
And yet know whether thou art blest or not, 
By reading the same lines 1 then come hither, 
And lay my book, thy head, and heart together. 

JOHN BUNYAN 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

IN THE SIMILITUDE OE A 

DREAM 

As I walked through the wilderness of this world, I lighted 
on a certain place where was a den, and laid me down in that 
place to sleep ; and as I slept, I dreamed a dream. I dreamed, 
and behold, I saw a man clothed with rags standing in a cer- 
tain place, with his face from his own house, a book in his 
hand, and a great burden upon his back. I looked, and saw 
him open the book, and read therein ; and, as he read, he 
wept and trembled ; and not being able longer to contain, he 
brake out with a lamentable cry, saying, "What shall I 
do?" 

In this plight, therefore, he went home, and refrained him- 
self as long as he could, that his wife and children should not 
perceive his distress ; but he could not be silent long, because 
that his trouble increased. Wherefore at length he brake his 
mind to his wife and children ; and thus he began to talk to 
them : "0 my dear wife," said he, "and you the children of 
my bowels, I, your dear friend, am in myself undone by reason 
of a burden that lieth hard upon me. Moreover, I am for 
certain informed that this our city will be burned with fire 
from heaven ; in which fearful overthrow, both myself, with 
thee my wife, and you my sweet babes, shall miserably come 
to ruin, except (the which yet I see not) some way of escape 
can be found whereby we may be delivered." At this his 
relations were sore amazed — not for that they believed that 
what he had said to them was true, but because they thought 
that some frenzy distemper had got into his head. Therefore, 
it drawing towards night and they hoping that sleep might 



12 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

settle his brains, with all haste they got him to bed. But the 
night was as troublesome to him as the day. Wherefore, in- 
stead of sleeping, he spent it in sighs and tears. So when 
the morning was come, they would know how he did. He 
told them, " Worse and worse." He also set to talking to 
them again ; but they began to be hardened. They also 
thought to drive away his distemper by harsh and surly car- 
riages to him. Sometimes they would deride, sometimes they 
would chide, and sometimes they would quite neglect him. 
Wherefore he began to retire himself to his chamber to pray 
for and pity them, and also to condole his own misery. He 
would also walk solitarily in the fields, sometimes reading, 
and sometimes praying ; and thus for some days he spent his 
time. 

Now I saw, upon a time, when he was walking in the fields, 
that he was, as he was wont, reading in his book, and greatly 
distressed in his mind ; and as he read, he burst out, as he 
had done before, crying, " What shall I do to be saved ? " 

I saw also that he looked this way and that way, as if he 
would run. Yet he stood still because, as I perceived, he 
could not tell which way to go. I looked then, and saw a 
man named Evangelist coming to him, and asked, " Where- 
fore dost thou cry V He answered, " Sir, I perceive, by the 
book in my hand, that I am condemned to die, and after that 
to come to judgment ; and I find that I am not willing to do 
the first, nor able to do the second." 

Then said Evangelist, " Why not willing to die, since this 
life is attended with so many evils ? " The man answered, 
" Because I fear that this burden that is upon my back will 
sink me lower than the grave, and I shall fall into Tophet. 
And sir, if I be not fit to go to prison, I am not fit, I am sure, 
to go to judgment, and from thence to execution ; and the 
thoughts of these things make me cry." 

Then said Evangelist, " If this be thy condition, why stand- 
est thou still 1" He answered, "Because I know not whither 
to go." Then he gave him a parchment roll ; and there was 
written within, " Fly from the wrath to come." 



EVANGELIST DIRECTS HIM 13 

The man therefore read it, and, looking upon Evangelist 
very carefully, said, " Whither must I fly ? " Then said 
Evangelist (pointing with his finger over a very wide field) 
"Do you see yonder wicket-gate?" The man said, "No." 
Then said the other, " Do you see yonder shining light ? " He 
said, " I think I do." Then said Evangelist, " Keep that light 
in your eye, and go up directly thereto. So shalt thou see the 
gate; at which, when thou knockest, it shall be told thee 
what thou shalt do." 

So I saw in my dream that the man began to run. Now 
he had not run far from his own door but his wife and children, 
perceiving it, began to cry after him to return. But the man 
put his fingers in his ears and ran on, crying, " Life ! life ! 
eternal life ! " So he looked not behind him, but fled towards 
the middle of the plain. 

The neighbors also came out to see him run ; and, as he 
ran, some mocked, others threatned, and some cried after 
him to return. Now among those that did so there were 
two that were resolved to fetch him back by force. The name 
of the one was Obstinate, and the name of the other Pliable. 
Now by this time the man was got a good distance from 
them ; but, however, they were resolved to pursue him ; which 
they did, and in a little time they overtook him. Then said 
the man, " Neighbors, wherefore are you come 1 " They 
said, "To persuade you to go back with us." But he said, 
"That can by no means be. You dwell," said he, "in the 
city of Destruction, the place also where I was born. I see 
it to be so ; and dying there, sooner or later you will sink 
lower than the grave, into a place that burns with fire and 
brimstone. Be content, good neighbors, and go along with 
me." 

Obst. What ! said Obstinate, and leave our friends and 
our comforts behind us 1 

Chr. Yes, said Christian (for that was his name), because 
that all which you shall forsake is not worthy to be compared 
with a little of that that I am seeking to enjoy ; and if you 
will go along with me, and hold it, you shall fare as I myself; 



14 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

for there, where I go, is enough and to spare. Come away, 
and prove my words. 

Obst. What are the things you seek, since you leave all 
the world to find them 1 

Chr. I seek an inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, and 
that fadeth not away ; and it is laid up in heaven, and safe 
there, to be bestowed, at the time appointed, on them that 
diligently seek it. Read it so, if you will, in my book. 

Obst. Tush ! said Obstinate, away with your book. Will 
you go back with us or no 1 

Chr. No, not I, said the other, because I have laid my 
hand to the plough. 

Obst. Come, then, neighbor Pliable; let us turn again, 
and go home without him. There is a company of these 
craz'd-headed coxcombs that, when they take a fancy by the 
end, are wiser in their own eyes than seven men that can 
render a reason. 

Pli. Then said Pliable, Don't revile. If what the good 
Christian says is true, the things he looks after are better 
than ours. My heart inclines to go with my neighbor. 

Obst. What ! more fools still ? Be ruled by me, and go 
back. Who knows whither such a brain-sick fellow will lead 
you 1 Go back, go back, and be wise. 

Chr. Nay, but do thou come with thy neighbor Pliable. 
There are such things to be had which I spoke of, and many 
more glories besides. If you believe not me, read here in this 
book ; and for the truth of what is exprest therein, behold, 
all is confirmed by the blood of Him that made it. 

Pli. Well, N neighbor Obstinate, said Pliable, I begin to 
come to a point. I intend to go along with this good man, 
and to cast in my lot with him. But, my good companion, 
do you know the way to this desired place 1 

Chr. I am directed by a man whose name is Evangelist 
to speed me to a little gate that is before us, where we shall 
receive instructions about the way. 

Pli. Come, then, good neighbor; let us be going. Then 
they went both together. 



CHRISTIAN AND PLIABLE 15 

Obst. And I will go back to my place, said Obstinate. 
I will be no companion of such misled, fantastical fellows. 

Now I saw in my dream, that when Obstinate was gone 
back, Christian and Pliable went talking over the plain ; and 
thus they began their discourse. 

Chr. Come, neighbor Pliable, how do you do 1 I am glad 
you are persuaded to go along with me. Had even Obstinate 
himself but felt what I have felt of the powers and terrors of 
what is yet unseen, he would not thus lightly have given us 
the back. 

Pli. Come, neighbor Christian, since there is none but us 
two here, tell me now further what the things are, and how 
to be enjoyed, whither we are going. 

Chr. I can better conceive of them with my mind than 
speak of them with my tongue ; but yet, since you are desirous 
to know, I will read of them in my book. 

Pli. And do you think that the words of your book are 
certainly true 1 

Chr. Yes, verily; for it was made by Him that cannot 
lie. 

Pli. Well said. What things are they 1 

Chr. There is an endless kingdom to be inhabited, and 
everlasting life to be given us, that we may inhabit that 
kingdom for ever. 

Pli. Well said ; and what else 1 

Chr. There are crowns of glory to be given us, and gar- 
ments that will make us shine like the sun in the firmament 
of heaven. 

Pli. This is very pleasant ; and what else ? 

Chr. There shall be no more crying, nor sorrow ; for he 
that is owner of the place will wipe all tears from our eyes. 

Pli. And what company shall we have there 1 

Chr. There we shall be with seraphims and cherubins, 
creatures that will dazzle your eyes to look on them. There 
also you shall meet with thousands and ten thousands that 
have gone before us to that place. None of them are hurtful, 
but loving and holy, every one walking in the sight of God, 



16 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

and standing in his presence with acceptance for ever. In a 
word, there we shall see the elders with their golden crowns ; 
there we shall see the holy virgins with their golden harps ; 
there we shall see men that by the world were cut in pieces, 
burnt in flames, eaten of beasts, drowned in the seas, for the 
love that they bare to the Lord of the place, all well, and 
clothed with immortality as with a garment. 

Pli. The hearing of this is enough to ravish one's heart. 
But are these things to be enjoyed 1 How shall we get to be 
sharers thereof? 

Chr. The Lord, the governor of the country, hath recorded 
that in this book, the substance of which is, if we be truly 
willing to have it, he will bestow it upon us freely. 

Pli. Well, my good companion, glad am I to hear of these 
things. Come on ; let us mend our pace. 

Chr. I cannot go so fast as I would, by reason of this 
burden that is on my back. 

Now I saw in my dream, that just as they had ended this 
talk, they drew nigh to a very miry slough that was in the 
midst of the plain ; and they, being heedless, did both fall 
suddenly into the bog. The name of the slough was Despond. 
Here, therefore, they wallowed for a time, being grievously 
bedaubed with the dirt ; and Christian, because of the burden 
that was on his back, began to sink in the mire. 

Pli. Then said Pliable, Ah ! neighbor Christian, where are 
you now 1 

Chr. Truly, said Christian, I do not know. 

Pli. At this Pliable began to be offended, and angerly said 
to his fellow, Is this the happiness you have told me all this 
while of? If we have such ill speed at our first setting out, 
what may we expect 'twixt this and our journey's end ? May 
I get out again with my life, you shall possess the brave 
country alone for me. And with that he gave a desperate 
struggle or two, and got out of the mire on that side of the 
slough which was next to his own house. So away he went, 
and Christian saw him no more. 

Wherefore Christian was left to tumble in the Slough of 



THE SLOUGH OF DESPOND 17 

Despond alone. But still he endeavored to struggle to that 
side of the slough that was still further from his own house, 
and next to the wicket-gate ; the which he did, but could not 
get out because of the burden that was upon his back. But I 
beheld in my dream that a man came to him, whose name was 
Help, and asked him what he did there. 

Chr. Sir, said Christian, I was bid go this way by a man 
called Evangelist, who directed me also to yonder gate, that I 
might escape the wrath to come. And as I was going thither, 
I fell in here. 

Help. But why did you not look for the steps ? 

Chr. Fear followed me so hard that I fled the next way, 
and fell in. 

Help. Then said he, Give me thine hand. So he gave him 
his hand, and he drew him out, and set him upon sound 
ground, and bid him go on his way. 

Then I stepped to him that pluckt him out, and said, "Sir, 
wherefore, since over this place is the way from the city of 
Destruction to yonder gate, is it that this plat is not mended, 
that poor travellers might go thither with more security ? " 
And he said unto me, " This miry slough is such a place as 
cannot be mended. It is the descent whither the scum and 
filth that attends conviction for sin doth continually run ; and 
therefore it is called the Slough of Despond. For still, as the 
sinner is awakened about his lost condition, there ariseth in 
his soul many fears and doubts, and discouraging appre- 
hensions, which all of them get together, and settle in this 
place ; and this is the reason of the badness of this ground. 

" It is not the pleasure of the King that this place should 
remain so bad. His laborers also have, by the direction of 
his Majesty's surveyors, been for above this sixteen hundred 
years employed about this patch of ground, if perhaps it 
might have been mended. Yea, and to my knowledge," said 
he, " there hath been swallowed up at least twenty thousand 
cart-loads, yea, millions of wholesome instructions, that have 
at all seasons been brought from all places of the King's 
dominions (and they that can tell say they are the best ma- 

2 



18 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

terials to make good ground of the place), if so be it might 
have been mended ; but it is the Slough of Despond still, and 
so will be when they have done what they can. 

" True, there are, by the direction of the Lawgiver, certain 
good and substantial steps placed even through the very 
midst of this slough ; but at such time as this place doth 
much spew out its filth, as it doth against change of weather, 
these steps are hardly seen ; or, if they be, men through the 
dizziness of their heads step besides, and then they are be- 
mired to purpose, notwithstanding the steps be there. But 
the ground is good when they are once got in at the gate." 

Now I saw in my dream, that by this time Pliable was got 
home to his house. So his neighbors came to visit him ; and 
some of them called him wise man for coming back, and some 
called him fool for hazarding himself with Christian. Others 
again did mock at his cowardliness, saying, "Surely, since 
you began to venture, I would not have been so base to have 
given out for a few difficulties." So Pliable sat sneaking 
among them. But at last he got more confidence ; and then 
they all turned their tales, and began to deride poor Christian 
behind his back. And thus much concerning Pliable. 

Now as Christian was walking solitarily by himself, he 
espied one afar off come crossing over the field to meet him ; 
and their hap was to meet just as they were crossing the way 
of each other. The gentleman's name that met him was Mr. 
"Worldly Wiseman. He dwelt in the town of Carnal Policy, a 
very great town, and also hard by from whence Christian came. 
This man, then, meeting with Christian, and having some 
inkling of him (for Christian's setting forth from the city of 
Destruction was much noised abroad, not only in the town 
where he dwelt, but also it began to be the town-talk in some 
other places) — Master Worldly Wiseman, therefore, having 
some guess of him, by beholding his laborious going, by ob- 
serving his sighs and groans, and the like, began thus to enter 
into some talk with Christian. 

World. How now, good fellow ? Whither away after this 
burdened manner? 



WORLDLY WISEMAN 



19 



Chr. A burdened manner indeed, as ever I think poor 
creature had. And whereas you ask me whither away, I tell 
you, sir, I am going to yonder wicket-gate before me; for 
there, as I am informed, I shall be put into a way to be rid of 
my heavy burden. 

World. Hast thou a wife and children ? 

Chr. Yes ; but I am so laden with this burden that I can- 
not take that pleasure in them as formerly. Methinks I am 
as if I had none. 

World. Wilt thou harken to me, if I give thee counsel 1 

Chr. If it be good, I will ; for I stand in need of good 
counsel. 

World. I would advise thee, then, that thou with all speed 
get thyself rid of thy burden ; for thou wilt never be settled 
in thy mind till then. Nor canst thou enjoy the benefits of 
the blessings which God hath bestowed upon thee till then. 

Chr. That is that which I seek for, even to be rid of this 
heavy burden. But get it off myself I cannot ; nor is there 
a man in our country that can take it off my shoulders. 
Therefore I am going this way, as I told you, that I may be 
rid of my burden. 

World. Who bid thee go this way to be rid of thy 
burden ? 

Chr. A man that appeared to me to be a very great and 
honorable person. His name, as I remember, is Evangelist. 

World. I beshrew him for his counsel. There is not a 
more dangerous and troublesome way in the world than is that 
unto which he hath directed thee ; and that thou shalt find, 
if thou wilt be ruled by his counsel. Thou hast met with 
something, as I perceive, already ; for I see the dirt of the 
Slough of Despond is upon thee ; but that slough is the be- 
ginning of the sorrows that do attend those that go on in that 
way. Hear me ; I am older than thou. Thou art like to 
meet with, in the way which thou goest, wearisomeness, pain- 
fulness, hunger, perils, nakedness, sword, lions, dragons, dark- 
ness and, in a word, death, and what not. These things are 
certainly true, having been confirmed by many testimonies. 



20 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

And why should a man so carelessly cast away himself, by 
giving heed to a stranger ? 

Chr. Why, sir, this burden upon my back is more terrible 
to me than all these things which you have mentioned. Nay, 
methinks I care not what I meet with in the way, so be I can 
also meet with deliverance from my burden. 

World. How earnest thou by the burden at first ? 

Chr. By reading this book in my hand. 

World. I thought so ; and it is happened unto thee as to 
other weak men, who, meddling with things too high for them, 
do suddenly fall into thy distractions ; which distractions do 
not only unman men, as thine I perceive has done thee, but 
they run them upon desperate ventures to obtain they know 
not what. 

Chr. I know what I would obtain ; it is ease from my heavy 
burden. 

World. But why wilt thou seek for ease this way, seeing 
so many dangers attend it 1 especially since (hadst thou but 
patience to hear me) I could direct thee to the obtaining of 
what thou desirest, without the dangers that thou in this way 
wilt run thyself into. Yea, and the remedy is at hand. Be- 
sides, I will add that instead of those dangers thou shalt meet 
with much safety, friendship, and content. 

Chr. Pray, sir, open this secret to me. 

World. Why, in yonder village (the village is named Mo- 
rality) there dwells a gentleman whose name is Legality, a 
very judicious man, and a man of a very good name, that has 
skill to help men off with such burdens as thine are from their 
shoulders. Yea, to my knowledge, he hath done a great deal 
of good this way. Aye, and besides, he hath skill to cure 
those that are somewhat crazed in their wits with their bur- 
dens. To him, as I said, thou mayest go, and be helped pres- 
ently. His house is not quite a mile from this place ; and, if he 
should not be at home himself, he hath a pretty young man to 
his son, whose name is Civility, that can do it, to speak on, as 
well as the old gentleman himself. There, I say, thou mayest 
be eased of thy burden ; and if thou art not minded to go back 



UNDER MOUNT SINAI 21 

to thy former habitation (as indeed I would not wish thee), 
thou mayest send for thy wife and children to thee to this 
village, where there are houses now stand empty, one of which 
thou mayest have at reasonable rates. Provision is there also 
cheap and good ; and that which will make thy life the more 
happy is to be sure there thou shalt live by honest neighbors, 
in credit and good fashion. 

Now was Christian somewhat at a stand ; but presently he 
concluded, If this be true which this gentleman hath said, my 
wisest course is to take his advice; and with that he thus 
farther spoke. 

Chr. Sir, which is my way to this honest man's house ? 

World. Do you see yonder high hill ? 

Chr. Yes, very well. 

World. By that hill you must go, and the first house you 
come at is his. 

So Christian turned out of his way to go to Mr. Legality's 
house for help ; but, behold, when he was got now hard by the 
hill, it seemed so high, and also that side of it that was next 
the way-side did hang so much over, that Christian was afraid 
to venture further, lest the hill should fall on his head. 
Wherefore there he stood still, and wotted not what to do. 
Also his burden now seemed heavier to him than while he was 
in his way. There came also flashes of fire out of the hill, that 
made Christian afraid that he should be burned. Here, there- 
fore, he sweat and did quake for fear. And now he began to 
be sorry that he had taken Mr. Worldly Wiseman's counsel ; 
and with that he saw Evangelist coming to meet him, at the 
sight also of whom he began to blush for shame. So Evan- 
gelist drew nearer and nearer ; and, coming up to him, he 
looked upon him with a severe and dreadful countenance, and 
thus began to reason with Christian. 

Evan. What doest thou here, Christian 1 said he ; at which 
words Christian knew not what to answer ; wherefore at pres- 
ent he stood speechless before him. Then said Evangelist 
farther, Art not thou the man that I found crying without the 
walls of the city of Destruction ? 



22 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Chr. Yes, dear sir, I am the man. 

Evan. Did not I direct thee the way to the little wicket- 
gate 1 

Chr. Yes, dear sir, said Christian. 

Evan. How is it, then, that thou art so quickly turned 
aside ? For thou art now out of the way. 

Chr. I met with a gentleman so soon as I had got over the 
Slough of Despond, who persuaded me that I might, in the 
village before me, find a man that could take off my burden. 

Evan. What was he ? 

Chr. He looked like a gentleman, and talked much to me, 
and got me at last to yield. So I came hither ; but when I 
beheld this hill, and how it hangs over the way, I suddenly 
made a stand, lest it should fall on my head. 

Evan. What said that gentleman to you 1 

Chr. Why, he asked me whither I was going ; and I told 
him. 

Evan. And what said he then 1 

Chr. He asked me if I had a family; and I told him. 
But, said I, I am so loaden with the burden that is on my 
back, that I cannot take pleasure in them as formerly. 

Evan. And what said he then 1 

Chr. He bid me with speed get rid of my burden ; and I 
told him 't was ease that I sought. And, said I, I am there- 
fore going to yonder gate, to receive further direction how I 
may get to the place of deliverance. So he said that he would 
show me a better way, and short, not so attended with dif- 
ficulties as the way, sir, that you set me in ; which way, said 
he, will direct you to a gentleman's house that hath skill to 
take off these burdens. So I believed him, and turned out of 
that way into this, if haply I might be soon eased of my burden. 
But when I came to this place, and beheld things as they are, 
I stopped, for fear, as I said, of danger. But I now know not 
what to do. 

Evan. Then said Evangelist, Stand still a little, that I may 
show thee the words of God. So he stood trembling. Then 
said Evangelist, " See that ye refuse not Him that speaketh ; 



EVANGELIST CONVINCES HIM 23 

for if they escaped not who refused him that spake on earth, 
much more shall not we escape, if we turn away from Him that 
speaketh from heaven." He said, moreover, " Now the just 
shall live by faith ; but if any man draws back, my soul shall 
have no pleasure in him." He also did thus apply them : 
Thou art the man that art running into this misery. Thou hast 
begun to reject the counsel of the Most High, and to draw 
back thy foot from the way of peace, even almost to the 
hazarding of thy perdition. 

Then Christian fell down at his foot as dead, crying, Woe 
is me, for I am undone ! At the sight of which Evangelist 
caught him by the right hand, saying, " All manner of sin and 
blasphemies shall be forgiven unto men." " Be not faithless, 
but believing." Then did Christian again a little revive, and 
stood up trembling, as at first, before Evangelist. 

Then Evangelist proceeded, saying, Give more earnest heed 
to the things that I shall tell thee of. I will now show thee 
who it was that deluded thee, and who 't was also to whom 
he sent thee. The man that met thee is one Worldly Wise- 
man, and rightly is he so called ; partly because he savoreth 
only the doctrine of this world (therefore he always goes to 
the town of Morality to church), and partly because he loveth 
that doctrine best, for it saveth him from the cross. And 
because he is of this carnal temper, therefore he seeketh to 
pervert my ways, though right. Now there are three things 
in this man's counsel that thou must utterly abhor : 

1. his turning thee out of the way, 

2. his laboring to render the cross odious to thee, 

3. and his setting thy feet in that way that leadeth unto 
the administration of death. 

First, thou must abhor his turning thee out of the way, 
yea, and thine own consenting thereto; because this is to 
reject the counsel of God for the sake of the counsel of a 
Worldly Wiseman. The Lord says, " Strive to enter in at the 
strait gate," the gate to which I send thee ; "for strait is the 
gate that leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it." 
From this little wicket-gate, and from the way thereto, hath 



24 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

this wicked man turned thee, to the bringing of thee almost 
to destruction. Hate, therefore, his turning thee out of the 
way, and abhor thyself for hearkening to him. 

Secondly, thou must abhor his laboring to render the cross 
odious unto thee ; for thou art to prefer it before the treasures 
in Egypt. Besides, the King of glory hath told thee that he 
that will save his life shall lose it. And he that comes after 
him, and hates not his father, and mother, and wife, and 
children, and brethren, and sisters, yea, and his own life also, 
he cannot be my disciple. I say, therefore, for a man to labor 
to persuade thee that that shall be thy death without which 
the truth hath said thou canst not have eternal life, this 
doctrine thou must abhor. 

Thirdly, thou must hate his setting of thy feet in the way 
that leadeth to the ministration of death. And for this thou 
must consider to whom he sent thee, and also how unable that 
person was to deliver thee from thy burden. 

He to whom thou wast sent for ease, being by name Legality, 
is the son of the bond- woman which now is, and is in bondage 
with her children, and is, in a mystery, this Mount Sinai, 
which thou hast feared will fall on thy head. Now if she with 
her children are in bondage, how canst thou expect by them 
to be made free ? This Legality, therefore, is not able to set 
thee free from thy burden. No man was as yet ever rid of 
his burden by him ; no, nor ever is like to be. Ye cannot be 
justified by the works of the law ; for by the deeds of the law 
no man living can be rid of his burden. Therefore Mr. 
Worldly Wiseman is an alien, and Mr. Legality is a cheat ; 
and, for his son Civility, notwithstanding his simpering looks, 
he is but an hypocrite, and cannot help thee. Believe me, 
there is nothing in all this noise that thou hast heard of 
these sottish men but a design to beguile thee of thy salvation, 
by turning thee from the way in which I had set thee. After 
this, Evangelist called aloud to the heavens for confirmation 
of what he had said ; and with that there came words and fire 
out of the mountain under which poor Christian stood, which 
made the hair of his flesh stand up. The words were thus 



EVANGELIST COMFORTS HIM 25 

pronounced : "As many as are of the works of the law are 
under the curse ; for it is written, Cursed is every one that 
continueth not in all things which are written in the book of 
the law to do them." 

Now Christian looked for nothing but death, and began to 
cry out lamentably, even cursing the time in which he met 
with Mr. Worldly Wiseman, still calling himself a thousand 
fools for hearkening to his counsel. He also was greatly 
ashamed to think that this gentleman's arguments, flowing 
only from the flesh, should have that prevalency with him 
as to cause him to forsake the right way. This done, he 
applied himself again to Evangelist in words and sense as 
follows. 

Chr. Sir, what think you ? Is there hopes 1 May I now 
go back, and go up to the wicket-gate % Shall I not be 
abandoned for this, and sent back from thence ashamed 1 
I am sorry I have hearkened to this man's counsel ; but may 
my sin be forgiven. 

Evan. Then said Evangelist to him, Thy sin is very great ; 
for by it thou hast committed two evils. Thou hast forsaken 
the way that is good, to tread in forbidden paths. Yet will 
the man at the gate receive thee ; for he has good -will for 
men. Only, said he, take heed that thou turn not aside 
again, lest thou "perish from the way, when his wrath is 
kindled but a little." 

Then did Christian address himself to go back ; and Evan- 
gelist, after he had kist him, gave him one smile, and bid him 
God speed. So he went on with haste ; neither spake he to 
any man by the way \ nor if any asked him, would he vouch- 
safe them an answer. He went like one that was all the 
while treading on forbidden ground, and could by no means 
think himself safe till again he was got into the way which he 
left to follow Mr. Worldy Wiseman's counsel. So, in process 
of time, Christian got up to the gate. Now over the gate 
there was written, "Knock, and it shall be opened unto 
you." He knocked, therefore, more than once or twice, 
saying, 



26 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

" May I now enter here ? Will he within 
Open to sorry me, though I have been 
An undeserving rebel ? Then shall I 
Not fail to sing his lasting praise on high." 

At last there came a grave person to the gate, named Good- 
will, who asked who was there, and whence he came, and 
what he would have. 

Chr. Here is a poor burdened sinner. I come from the 
city of Destruction, but am going to Mount Zion, that I may 
he delivered from the wrath to come. I would therefore, sir, 
since I am informed that by this gate is the way thither, 
know if you are willing to let me in. 

Good. I am willing with all my heart, said he ; and with 
that he opened the gate. 

So when Christian was stepping in, the other gave him a 
pull. Then said Christian, What means that? The other 
told him, A little distance from this gate there is erected a 
strong castle, of which Beelzebub is the captain. From thence 
both he and them that are with him shoot arrows at those 
that come up to this gate, if haply they may die before they 
can enter in. Then said Christian, I rejoice and tremble. 
So when he was got in, the man of the gate asked him who 
directed him thither. 

Chr. Evangelist bid me come hither and knock, as I 
did; and he said that you, sir, would tell me what I must 
do. 

Good. An open door is set before thee ; and no man can 
shut it. 

Chr. Now I begin to reap the benefits of my hazards. 

Good. But how is it that you came alone 1 

Chr. Because none of my neighbors saw their danger as I 
saw mine. 

Good. Did any of them know of your coming % 

Chr. Yes, my wife and children saw me at the first, and 
called after me to turn again. Also, some of my neighbors 
stood crying and calling after me to return ; but I put m^ 
fingers in my ears, and so came on my way. 



GOODWILL AT THE GATE 27 

Good. But did none of them follow you, to persuade you 
to go back ? 

Chr. Yes, both Obstinate and Pliable ; but when they saw 
that they could not prevail, Obstinate went railing back, but 
Pliable came with me a little way. 

Good. But why did he not come through ? 

Chr. We indeed came both together until we came at the 
Slough of Despond, into the which we also suddenly fell 
And then was my neighbor Pliable discouraged, and would 
not adventure further. Wherefore, getting out again on the 
side next to his own house, he told me I should possess the 
brave country alone for him. So he went his way, and I came 
mine ; he after Obstinate, and I to this gate. 

Good. Then said Goodwill, Alas, poor man ! Is the celes- 
tial glory of so small esteem with him that he counteth it not 
worth running the hazards of a few difficulties to obtain it ? 

Chr. Truly, said Christian, I have said the truth of Pliable ; 
and if I should also say all the truth of myself, it will appear 
there is no betterment 'twixt him and myself. ' T is true, he 
went back to his own house ; but I also turned aside to go into 
the way of death, being persuaded thereto by the carnal argu- 
ment of one Mr. Worldly Wiseman. 

Good. 0, did he light upon you 1 What ! he would have 
had you a sought for ease at the hands of Mr. Legality ! 
They are both of them a very cheat. But did you take his 
counsel 1 

Chr. Yes, as far as I durst. I went to find out Mr. Le- 
gality, until I thought that the mountain that stands by his 
house would have fallen upon my head. Wherefore there was 
I forced to stop. 

Good. That mountain has been the death of many, and will 
be the death of many more. ' T is well you escaped being by 
it dasht in pieces. 

Chr. Why truly I do not know what had become of me 
there, had not Evangelist happily met me again as I was 
musing in the midst of my dumps. But 't was God's mercy 
that he came to me again ; for else I had never come hither. 



28 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

But now I am come, such a one as I am, more fit indeed for 
death by that mountain than thus to stand talking with my 
Lord. But Oh what a favor is this to me, that yet I am ad- 
mitted entrance here ! 

Good. We make no objections against any. Noth withstand- 
ing all that they have done before they come hither, they in 
nowise are cast out. And therefore, good Christian, come a 
little way with me, and I will teach thee about the way thou 
must go. Look before thee. Dost thou see this narrow way 1 
That is the way thou must go. It was cast up by the patri- 
archs, prophets, Christ, and his apostles ; and it is as straight 
as a rule can make it. This is the way thou must go. 

Chr. But, said Christian, are there no turnings nor wind- 
ings, by which a stranger may lose the way 1 

Good. Yes, there are many ways butt down upon this, and 
they are crooked and wide ; but thus thou mayest distinguish 
the right from the wrong, the right only being straight and 
narrow. 

Then I saw in my dream that Christian asked him further 
if he could not help him off with his burden that was upon his 
back. For as yet he had not got rid thereof ; nor could he by 
any means get it off without help. 

He told him, " As to thy burden, be content to bear it until 
thou comest to the place of deliverance ; for there it will fall 
from thy back itself." 

Then Christian began to gird up his loins, and to address 
himself to his journey. So the other told him that by that 
he was gone some distance from the gate, he would come at 
the house of the Interpreter, at whose door he should knock, 
and he would show him excellent things. Then Christian 
took his leave of his friend, and he again bid him God speed. 

Then he went on till he came at the house of the Interpre- 
ter, where he knocked over and over. At last one came to 
the door, and asked who was there. 

Chr. Sir, here is a traveller, who was bid by an acquaint- 
ance of the good man of this house to call here for my profit. 
I would therefore speak with the master of the house. 



THE INTERPRETER'S HOUSE 29 

So he called for the master of the house, who, after a 
little time, came to Christian, and asked him what he would 
have. 

Chr. Sir, said Christian, I am a man that am come from 
the city of Destruction, and am going to the Mount Zion ; and 
I was told by the man that stands at the gate at the head of 
this way, that if I called here you would show me excellent 
things, such as would be an help to me in my journey. 

Inter. Then said the Interpreter, Come in. I will show 
thee that which will be profitable to thee. So he commanded 
his man to light the candle, and bid Christian follow him. So 
he had him into a private room, and bid his man open a door. 
The which when he had done, Christian saw the picture of a 
very grave person hang up against the wall ; and this was the 
fashion of it : it had eyes lifted up to heaven ; the best of 
books in his hand ; the law of truth was written upon his lips ; 
the world was behind his back j it stood as if it pleaded with 
men ; and a crown of gold did hang over its head. 

Chr. Then said Christian, What means this ? 

Inter. The man whose picture this is, is one of a thousand. 
He can beget children, travail in birth with children, and 
nurse them himself when they are born. And whereas thou 
seest him with his eyes lift up to heaven, the best of books in 
his hand, and the law of truth writ on his lips, it is to show 
thee that his work is to know and unfold dark things to sin- 
ners, even as also thou seest him stand as if he pleaded with 
men. And whereas thou seest the world as cast behind him, 
and that a crown hangs over his head, that is to show thee 
that slighting and despising the things that are present, for 
the love that he hath to his Master's service, he is sure in the 
world that comes next to have glory for his reward. Now, 
said the Interpreter, I have showed thee this picture first, be- 
cause the man whose picture this is, is the only man whom the 
Lord of the place whither thou art going hath authorized to be 
thy guide in all difficult places thou mayest meet with in the 
way. Wherefore take good heed to what I have showed thee, 
and bear well in thy mind what thou hast seen, lest in thy 



30 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

journey thou meet with some that pretend to lead thee right, 
but their way goes down to death. 

Then he took him by the hand, and led him into a very 
large parlor that was full of dust, because never swept j the 
which after he had reviewed a little while, the Interpreter 
called for a man to sweep. Now, when he began to sweep, 
the dust began so abundantly to fly about that Christian had 
almost therewith been choked. Then said the Interpreter to 
a damsel that stood by, "Bring hither the water, and sprinkle 
the room." The which when she had done, it was swept and 
cleansed with pleasure. 

Chr. Then said Christian, What means this % 

Inter. The Interpreter answered, This parlor is the heart 
of a man that was never sanctified by the sweet grace of the 
Gospel. The dust is his original sin and inward corruptions 
that have defiled the whole man. He that began to sweep at 
first is the law ; but she that brought water and did sprinkle 
it is the Gospel. Now whereas thou sawest that so soon as 
the first began to sweep, the dust did so fly about that the 
room by him could not be cleansed, but that thou wast almost 
choked therewith, this is to show thee that the law, instead of 
cleansing the heart by its working from sin, doth revive, put 
strength into, and increase it in the soul, even as it doth dis- 
cover and forbid it; for it doth not give power to subdue. 
Again, as thou sawest the damsel sprinkle the room with 
water, upon which it was cleansed with pleasure, this is to 
show thee that when the Gospel comes in the sweet and pre- 
cious influences thereof to the heart, then, I say, even as thou 
sawest the damsel lay the dust by sprinkling the floor with 
water, so is sin vanquished and subdued and the soul made 
clean through the faith of it, and consequently fit for the King 
of glory to inhabit. 

I saw moreover in my dream that the Interpreter took him 
by the hand, and had him into a little room, where sat two 
little children, each one in his chair. The name of the eldest 
was Passion, and the name of the other Patience. Passion 
seemed to be much discontent ; but Patience was very quiet. 



THE INTERPRETER'S HOUSE 31 

Then Christian asked, " What is the reason of the discontent 
of Passion 1 " The Interpreter answered, " The governor of 
them would have him stay for his best things till the begin- 
ning of the next year ; but he will have all now ; but Patience 
is willing to wait. " 

Then I saw that one came to Passion and brought him a 
bag of treasure, and poured it down at his feet. The which 
he took up, and rejoiced therein, and withal laughed Patience 
to scorn. But I beheld but a while, and he had lavished all 
away, and had nothing left him but rags. 

Chr. Then said Christian to the Interpreter, Expound this 
matter more fully to me. 

Inter. So he said, These two lads are figures ; Passion of the 
men of this world, and Patience of the men of that which is to 
come. For, as here thou seest Passion will have all now, this 
year, that is to say, in this world, so are the men of this world ; 
they must have all their good things now ; they cannot stay 
till next year, that is, until the next world, for their portion of 
good. That proverb, " A bird in the hand is worth two in the 
bush," is of more authority with them than are all the divine 
testimonies of the good of the world to come. But as thou 
sawest that he had quickly lavished all away, and had pres- 
ently left him nothing but rags, so will it be with all such men 
at the end of this world. 

Chr. Then said Christian, Now I see that Patience has the 
best wisdom, and that upon many accounts: 1. because he 
stays for the best things ; 2. and also because he will have the 
glory of his, when the other has nothing but rags. 

Inter. Nay, you may add another, to wit, the glory of the 
next world will never wear out ; but these are suddenly gone. 
Therefore Passion had not so much reason to laugh at Patience 
because he had his good things first as Patience will have to 
laugh at Passion because he had his best things last ; for first 
must give place to last, because last must have his time to 
come, but last gives place to nothing, for there is not another 
to succeed. He, therefore, that hath his portion first must 
needs have a time to spend it ; but he that hath his portion 



32 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

last must have it lastingly. Therefore it is said of Dives, 
" In thy lifetime thou receivedest thy good things, and like- 
wise Lazarus evil things ; but now he is comforted, and thou 
art tormented." 

Chr. Then I perceive 't is not best to covet things that are 
now, but to wait for things to come. 

Inter. You say truth : for the things that are seen are 
temporal ; but the things that are not seen are eternal. But 
though this be so, yet since things present and our fleshly 
appetite are such near neighbors one to another, and again 
because things to come and carnal sense are such strangers 
one to another, therefore it is that the first of these so sud- 
denly fall into amity, and that distance is so continued be- 
tween the second. 

Then I saw in my dream that the Interpreter took Chris- 
tian by the hand, and led him into a place where was a fire 
burning against a wall, and one standing by it always, casting 
much water upon it, to quench it. Yet did the fire burn 
higher and hotter. 

Then said Christian, What means this 1 

The Interpreter answered, This fire is the work of grace 
that is wrought in the heart. He that casts water upon it, to 
extinguish and put it out, is the Devil. But in that thou 
seest the fire notwithstanding burn higher and hotter, thou 
shalt also see the reason of that. So he had him about to the 
back side of the wall, where he saw a man with a vessel of oil 
in his hand, of the which he did also continually cast, but 
secretly, into the fire. 

Then said Christian, What means this 1 

The Interpreter answered, This is Christ, who continu- 
ally, with the oil of his grace, maintains the work already 
begun in the heart ; by the means of which, notwithstand- 
ing what the Devil can do, the souls of his people prove 
gracious still. And in that thou sawest that the man stood 
behind the wall to maintain the fire, this is to teach thee that 
it is hard for the tempted to see how this work of grace is 
maintained in the soul. 



THE INTERPRETER'S HOUSE 33 

I saw also that the Interpreter took him again by the hand 
and led him into a pleasant place, where was builded a stately- 
palace, beautiful to behold, at the sight of which Christian 
was greatly delighted. He saw also upon the top thereof 
certain persons walking, who were clothed all in gold. 

Then said Christian, May we go in thither 1 

Then the Interpreter took him and led him up towards the 
door of the palace ; and behold at the door stood a great 
company of men, as desirous to go in, but durst not. There 
also sat a man at a little distance from the door, at a table- 
side, with a book and his inkhorn before him, to take the 
name of him that should enter therein. He saw also that in 
the doorway stood many men in armor to keep it, being re- 
solved to do to the men that would enter what hurt and mis- 
chief they could. Now was Christian somewhat in amaze. 
At last, when every man started back for fear of the armed 
men, Christian saw a man of a very stout countenance come 
up to the man that sat there to write, saying, " Set down my 
name, sir." The which when he had done, he saw the man 
draw his sword, and put a helmet upon his head, and rush 
toward the door upon the armed men, who laid upon him 
with deadly force ; but the man, not at all discouraged, fell to 
cutting and hacking most fiercely. So after he had received 
and given many wounds to those that attempted to keep him 
out, he cut his way through them all, and pressed forward 
into the palace ; at which there was a pleasant voice heard 
from those that were within, even of those that walked upon 
the top of the palace, saying, 

" Come in, come in. 
Eternal glory thou shalt win." 

So he went in, and was clothed with such garments as they. 
Then Christian smiled, and said, I think verily I know the 
meaning of this. 

Now, said Christian, let me go hence. Nay, stay, said the 
Interpreter, till I have showed thee a little more ; and after 
that thou shalt go on thy way. So he took him by the hand 



34 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

again and led him into a very dark room, where there sat a 
man in an iron cage. 

Now the man, to look on, seemed very sad. He sat with 
his eyes looking down to the ground, his hands folded together, 
and he sighed as if he would break his heart. Then said 
Christian, What means this ? At which the Interpreter bid 
him talk with the man. 

Then said Christian to the man, What art thou 1 The 
man answered, I am what I was not once. 

Chr. What wast thou once ? 

Man. The man said, I was once a fair and flourishing 
professor, both in mine own eyes, and also in the eyes of 
others. I once was, as I thought, fair for the celestial city, 
and had then even joy at the thoughts that I should get 
thither. 

Chr. Well, but what art thou now % 

Man. I am now a man of despair, and am shut up in it, 
as in this iron cage. I cannot get out ; Oh now I cannot ! 

Chr. But how earnest thou in this condition 1 

Man. I left off to watch and be sober. I laid the reins 
upon the neck of my lusts. I sinned against the light of the 
word, and the goodness of God. I have grieved the Spirit, 
and he is gone. I tempted the devil, and he is come to me. 
I have provoked God to anger, and he has left me. I have so 
hardened my heart that I cannot repent. 

Then said Christian to the Interpreter, But is there no 
hopes for such a man as this ? Ask him, said the Interpreter. 

Chr. Then said Christian, Is there no hope but you must 
be kept in the iron cage of despair ? 

Man. No, none at all. 

Chr. Why 1 the Son of the Blessed is very pitiful. 

Man. I have crucified him to myself afresh. I have de- 
spised his person ; I have despised his righteousness ; I have 
counted his blood an unholy thing; I have done despite to 
the Spirit of grace. Therefore I have shut myself out of all 
the promises ; and there now remains to me nothing but threat- 
nings, dreadful threatnings, faithful threatnings of certain 



THE INTERPRETER'S HOUSE 35 

judgment and fiery indignation, which shall devour me as an 
adversary. 

Chr. For what did you bring yourself into this condition 1 

Man. For the lusts, pleasures, and profits of this world \ 
in the enjoyment of which I did then promise myself much 
delight, but now every one of those things also bite me, and 
gnaw me like a burning worm. 

Chr. But canst thou not now repent and turn % 

Man. God hath denied me repentance. His word gives 
me no encouragement to believe. Yea, himself hath shut me 
up in this iron cage. Nor can all the men in the world let me 
out. Oh eternity ! eternity ! how shall I grapple with the 
misery that I must meet with in eternity % 

Inter. Then said the Interpreter to Christian, Let this 
man's misery be remembred by thee, and be an everlasting 
caution to thee. 

Chr. Well, said Christian, this is fearful. God help me to 
watch and be sober, and to pray that I may shun the cause of 
this man's misery. Sir, is it not time for me to go on my way 
now 1 

Inter. Tarry till I shall show thee one thing more, and 
then thou shalt go on thy way. 

So he took Christian by the hand again, and led him into a 
chamber where there was one rising out of bed ; and as he 
put on his raiment, he shook and trembled. Then said Chris- 
tian, Why doth this man thus tremble 1 The Interpreter then 
bid him tell to Christian the reason of his so doing. 

So he began, and said, " This night, as I was in my sleep, 
I dreamed, and behold the heavens grew exceeding black • also 
it thundred and lightned in most fearful wise, that it put me 
into an agony. So I looked up in my dream, and saw the 
clouds rack at an unusual rate ; upon which I heard a great 
sound of a trumpet, and saw also a man sit upon a cloud, at- 
tended with the thousands of heaven. They were all in flam- 
ing fire ; also the heavens were on a burning flame. I heard 
then a voice, saying, 'Arise, ye dead, and come to judgment.' 
And with that the rocks rent, the graves opened, and the dead 



36 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

that were therein came forth. Some of them were exceeding 
glad, and looked upward ; and some sought to hide themselves 
under the mountains. Then I saw the man that sat upon the 
cloud open the book, and bid the world draw near. Yet there 
was, by reason of a fierce flame that issued out and came 
before him, a convenient distance betwixt him and them, as 
betwixt the judge and the prisoners at the bar. I heard it 
also proclaimed to them that attended on the man that sat on 
the cloud, ' Gather together the tares, the chaff, and stubble, 
and cast them into the burning lake.' And with that the 
bottomless pit opened, just whereabout I stood ; out of the 
mouth of which there came, in an abundant manner, smoke, 
and coals of fire, with hideous noises. It was also said to the 
same persons, ' Gather my wheat into the garner.' And with 
that I saw many catch't up and carried away into the clouds ; 
but I was left behind. I also sought to hide myself, but I 
could not ; for the man that sat upon the cloud still kept his 
eye upon me. My sins also came into my mind, and my con- 
science did accuse me on every side. Upon this I awaked 
from my sleep." 

Chr. But what was it that made you so afraid of this sight ? 

Man. Why, I thought that the day of judgment was come, 
and that I was not ready for it. But this frighted me most, 
that the angels gathered up several, and left me behind ; also 
the pit of hell opened her mouth just where I stood. My con- 
science too afflicted me ; and, as I thought, the Judge had al- 
ways his eye upon me, showing indignation in his countenance. 

Then said the Interpreter to Christian, "Hast thou con- 
sidered all these things 1 " 

Chr. Yes, and they put me in hope and fear. 

Inter. Well, keep all things so in thy mind that they may 
be as a goad in thy sides, to prick thee forward in the way 
thou must go. Then Christian began to gird up his loins, 
and to address himself to his journey. Then said the Inter- 
preter, " The Comforter be always with thee, good Christian, 
to guide thee in the way that leads to the city." So Chris- 
tian went on his way, saying, 



CHRISTIAN LOSES HIS BURDEN 37 

" Here I have seen things rare and profitable, 
Things pleasant, dreadful, things to make me stable 
In what I have began to take in hand. 
Then let me think on them, and understand 
Wherefore they showed me was, and let me be 
Thankful, good Interpreter, to thee." 

Now I saw in my dream that the highway up which Chris- 
tian was to go was fenced on either side with a wall, and that 
wall is called Salvation. Up this way, therefore, did burdened 
Christian run, but not without great difficulty, because of the 
load on his back. 

He ran thus till he came at a place somewhat ascending ; 
and upon that place stood a cross, and a little below, in the 
bottom, a, sepulchre. So I saw in my dream that just as 
Christian came up with the cross, his burden loosed from off 
his shoulders, and fell from off his back, and began to tumble, 
and so continued to do till it came to the mouth of the sepul- 
chre, where it fell in, and I saw it no more. 

Then was Christian glad and lightsome, and said with a 
merry heart, "He hath given me rest by his sorrow, and life 
by his death." Then he stood still a while, to look and won- 
der ; for it was very surprising to him that the sight of the 
cross should thus ease him of his burden. He looked, there- 
fore, and looked again, even till the springs that were in his 
head sent the waters down his cheeks. Now as he stood look- 
ing and weeping, behold, three shining ones came to him, and 
saluted him with, "Peace be to thee." So the first said to 
him, "Thy sins be forgiven." The second stript him of his 
rags, and clothed him with change of raiment. The third also 
set a mark on his forehead, and gave him a roll with a seal 
upon it, which he bid him look on as he ran, and that he 
should give it in at the celestial gate. So they went their 
way. Then Christian gave three leaps for joy, and went on 
singing, 

" Thus far did I come loaden with my sin ; 
Nor could aught ease the grief that I was in, 



38 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Till I came hither. What a place is this ! 
Must here be the beginning of my bliss ? 
Must here the burden fall from off my back ? 
Must here the strings that bound it to me crack ? 
Blest cross ! blest sepulchre ! blest rather be 
The Man that there was put to shame for me ! " 

I saw then in my dream that he went on thus, even until 
he came at a bottom, where he saw, a little out of the way, 
three men fast asleep, with fetters upon their heels. The 
name of the one was Simple, another Sloth, and the third 
Presumption. 

Christian then seeing them lie in this case, went to them, if 
peradventure he might awake them, and cried, You are like 
them that sleep on the top of a mast ; for the Dead Sea is 
under you, a gulf 'that hath no bottom. Awake, therefore, 
and come away. Be willing also, and I will help you off with 
your irons. He also told them, If he that goeth about like a 
roaring lion comes by, you will certainly become a prey to his 
teeth. With that they lookt upon him, and began to reply in 
this sort. Simple said, "I see no danger"; Sloth said, "Yet 
a little more sleep " ; and Presumption said, " Every fat must 
stand upon his own bottom." And so they lay down to sleep 
again, and Christian went on his way. 

Yet he was troubled to think that men in that danger 
should so little esteem the kindness of him that so freely 
offered to help them, both by awakening of them, counselling 
of them, and proffering to help them off with their irons. 
And as he was troubled thereabout, he espied two men come 
tumbling over the wall, on the left hand of the narrow way ; 
and they made up apace to him. The name of the one was 
Formalist, and the name of the other Hypocrisy. So, as I 
said, they drew up unto him, who thus entered with them into 
discourse. 

Chr. Gentlemen, whence came you, and whither go you 1 

Form, and Hyp. "We were born in the land of Vain-glory, 
and are going, for praise, to Mount Zion. 

Chr. Why came you not in at the gate which standeth at 



FORMALIST AND HYPOCRISY 39 

the beginning of the way % Know you not that it is written 
that " he that cometh not in by the door, but climbeth up 
some other way, the same is a thief and a robber " 1 

Form, and Hyp. They said that to go to the gate for en- 
trance was by all their countrymen counted too far about, 
and that therefore their usual way was to make a short cut of 
it, and to climb over the wall, as they had done. 

Chr. But will it not be counted a trespass against the 
Lord of the city whither we are bound, thus to violate his 
revealed will? 

Form, and Hyp. They told him that as for that, he needed 
not to trouble his head thereabout ; for what they did they 
had custom for, and could produce, if need were, testimony 
that would witness it for more than a thousand years. 

Chr. But, said Christian, will it stand a trial at law t 

Form, and Hyp. They told him that custom, it being of 
so long a standing as above a thousand years, would doubt- 
less now be admitted as a thing legal by an impartial 
judge. "And besides," said they, "so be we get into the 
way, what 's matter which way we get in 1 If we are in, we 
are in. Thou art but in the way, who, as we perceive, came 
in at the gate; and we are also in the way, that came 
tumbling over the wall. Wherein now is thy condition better 
than ours 1 " 

Chr. I walk by the rule of my Master ; you walk by the 
rude working of your fancies. You are counted thieves al- 
ready by the Lord of the way. Therefore I doubt you will 
not be found true men at the end of the way. You come in 
by yourselves without his direction, and shall go out by your- 
selves without his mercy. 

To this they made him but little answer; only they bid 
him look to himself. Then I saw that they went on, every 
man in his way, without much conference one with another, 
save that these two men told Christian that as to laws and 
ordinances, they doubted not but they should as conscien- 
tiously do them as he. " Therefore," said they, " we see not 
wherein thou differest from us, but by the coat that is on thy 



40 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

back, which was, as we trow, given thee by some of thy neigh- 
bors, to hide the shame of thy nakedness." 

Chr. By laws and ordinances you will not be saved, since 
you came not in by the door. And as for this coat that is 
on my back, it was given me by the Lord of the place whither 
I go ; and that, as you say, to cover my nakedness with. And 
I take it as a token of his kindness to me ; for I had nothing 
but rags before. And besides, thus I comfort myself as I go. 
Surely, think I, when I come to the gate of the city, the Lord 
thereof will know me for good, since I have his coat on my 
back, a coat that he gave me freely in the day that he stript 
me of my rags. I have, moreover, a mark in my forehead, of 
which perhaps you have taken no notice, which one of my 
Lord's most intimate associates fixed there in the day that 
my burden fell off my shoulders. I will tell you, moreover, 
that I had then given me a roll sealed, to comfort me by read- 
ing as I go on the way. I was also bid to give it in at the 
celestial gate, in token of my certain going in after it, — all 
which things I doubt you want, and want them because you 
came not in at the gate. 

To these things they gave him no answer ; only they looked 
upon each other, and laughed. Then I saw that they went 
on all, save that Christian kept before, who had no more talk 
but with himself, and that sometimes sighingly, and some- 
times comfortably. Also he would be often reading in the roll 
that one of the shining ones gave him, by which he was 
refreshed. 

I beheld then, that they all went on till they came to the 
foot of the hill Difficulty, at the bottom of which there was a 
spring. There were also in the same place two other ways 
besides that which came straight from the gate. One turned 
to the left hand, and the other to the right, at the bottom of 
the hill ; but the narrow way lay right up the hill, and the 
name of the going up the side of the hill is called Difficulty. 
Christian now went to the spring, and drank thereof to refresh 
himself, and then began to go up the hill, saying, 



THE HILL DIFFICULTY 41 

" The hill, though high, I covet to ascend. 
The difficulty will not me offend; 
For I perceive the way to life lies here. 
Come, pluck up heart, let 's neither faint nor fear. 
Better, though difficult, th' right way to go, 
Than wrong, though easy, where the end is woe." 

The other two also came to the foot of the hill. But when 
they saw that the hill was steep and high, and that there was 
two other ways to go, and supposing also that these two ways 
might meet again with that up which Christian went, on the 
other side of the hill, therefore they were resolved to go in 
those ways. Now the name of one of those ways was Danger, 
and the name of the other Destruction. So the one took the 
way which is called Danger, which led him into a great wood ; 
and the other took directly up the way to Destruction, which 
led him into a wide field, full of dark mountains, where he 
stumbled and fell, and rose no more. 

I looked then after Christian, to see him go up the hill, 
where I perceived he fell from running to going, and from go- 
ing to clambering upon his hands and his knees, because of 
the steepness of the place. Now about the midway to the 
top of the hill was a pleasant arbor, made by the Lord of 
the hill for the refreshment of weary travellers. Thither, 
therefore, Christian got, where also he sat down to rest him. 
Then he pulled his roll out of his bosom, and read therein to 
his comfort. He also now began afresh to take a review of 
the coat or garment that was given to him as he stood by the 
cross. Thus pleasing himself awhile, he at last fell into a 
slumber, and thence into a fast sleep, which detained him in 
that place until it was almost night ; and in his sleep his roll 
fell out of his hand. Now, as he was sleeping, there came 
one to him, and awaked him, saying, "Go to the ant, thou 
sluggard; consider her ways, and be wise." And with that 
Christian suddenly started up, and sped him on his way, and 
went apace till he came to the top of the hill. 

Now when he was got up to the top of the hill, there came two 
men running to meet him amain. The name of the one was 



42 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Timorous, and the other Mistrust. To whom Christian said, 
Sirs, what 's the matter you run the wrong way ? Timorous 
answered, that they were going to the city of Zion, and had 
got up that difficult place. " But," said he, "the further we 
go, the more danger we meet with. Wherefore we turned, 
and are going back again." 

"Yes," said Mistrust, "for just before us lie a couple of 
lions in the way, whether sleeping or waking we know not ; 
and we could not think, if we came within reach, but they 
would presently pull us in pieces." 

Che,. Then said Christian, You make me afraid ; but 
whither shall I fly to be safe? If I go back to mine own 
country, that is prepared for fire and brimstone, and I shall 
certainly perish there ; if I can get to the celestial city, I am 
sure to be in safety there. I must venture. To go back is 
nothing but death ; to go forward is fear of death, and life 
everlasting beyond it. I will yet go forward. So Mistrust and 
Timorous ran down the hill, and Christian went on his way. 
But thinking again of what he had heard from the men, he 
felt in his bosom for his roll, that he might read therein and 
be comforted ; but he felt, and found it not. Then was Chris- 
tian in great distress, and knew not what to do ; for he wanted 
that which used to relieve him, and that which should have 
been his pass into the celestial city. Here, therefore, he began 
to be much perplexed, and knew not what to do. At last he 
bethought himself that he had slept in the arbor that is on 
the side of the hill ; and, falling down upon his knees, he 
asked God forgiveness for that foolish fact, and then went 
back to look for his roll. But all the way he went back, who 
can sufficiently set forth the sorrow of Christian's heart ? 
Sometimes he sighed, sometimes he wept, and oftentimes he 
chid himself for being so foolish to fall asleep in that place, 
which was erected only for a little refreshment for his weari- 
ness. Thus, therefore, he went back, carefully looking on this 
side and on that, all the way as he went; if happily he might 
find his roll, that had been his comfort so many times in his 
journey. He went thus till he came again within sight of the 



CHRISTIAN RECOVERS HIS ROLL 43 

arbor where he sat and slept ; but that sight renewed his sor- 
row the more, by bringing again, even afresh, his evil of sleep- 
ing unto his mind. Thus, therefore, he now went on, bewailing 
his sinful sleep, saying, wretched man that I am, that I 
should sleep in the daytime ! that I should sleep in the midst 
of difficulty ! that I should so indulge the flesh as to use that 
rest for ease to my flesh which the Lord of the hill hath erected 
only for the relief of the spirits of pilgrims ! How many steps 
have I took in vain ! Thus it happened to Israel for their sin ; 
they were sent back again by the way of the Red Sea ; and 
I am made to tread those steps with sorrow which I might 
have trod with delight, had it not been for this sinful sleep. 
How far might I have been on my way by this time ! I am 
made to tread those steps thrice over which I needed not to 
have trod but once. Yea, now also I am like to be benighted ; 
for the day is almost spent. that I had not slept ! 

Now by this time he was come to the arbor again, where for 
a while he sat down and wept ; but at last, as Christian would 
have it, looking sorrowfully down under the settle, there he 
espied his roll, the which he with trembling and haste catcht 
up, and put it into his bosom. But who can tell how joyful 
this man was when he had gotten his roll again ! For this 
roll was the assurance of his life, and acceptance at the desired 
haven. Therefore he laid it up in his bosom, gave thanks to 
God for directing his eye to the place where it lay, and with 
joy and tears betook himself again to his journey. But Oh 
how nimbly did he go up the rest of the hill ! Yet before he 
got up, the sun went down upon Christian ; and this made 
him again recall the vanity of his sleeping to his remembrance ; 
and thus he again began to condole with himself: thou 
sinful sleep ! how for thy sake am I like to be benighted in 
my journey ! I must walk without the sun ; darkness must 
cover the path of my feet ; and I must hear the noise of the 
doleful creatures, because of my sinful sleep ! Now also he 
remembered the story that Mistrust and Timorous told him 
of, how they were frighted with the sight of the lions. Then 
said Christian to himself again, These beasts range in the 



44 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

night for their prey ; and if they should meet with me in the 
dark, how should I shift them ? How should I escape being 
by them torn in pieces 1 Thus he went on his way. But 
while he was bewailing his unhappy miscarriage, he lift up his 
eyes, and behold there was a very stately palace before him, 
the name of which was Beautiful, and it stood by the highway- 
side. 

So I saw in my dream that he made haste and went for- 
ward, that if possible he might get lodging there. Now before 
he had gone far, he entered into a very narrow passage, which 
was about a furlong off of the Porter's lodge; and, looking 
very narrowly before him as he went, he espied two lions in 
the way. Now, thought he, I see the dangers that Mistrust 
and Timorous were driven back by. (The lions were chained ; 
but he saw not the chains.) Then he was afraid, and thought 
also himself to go back after them ; for he thought nothing 
but death was before him. But the Porter at the lodge, whose 
name is Watchful, perceiving that Christian made a halt, as 
if he would go back, cried unto him, saying, Is thy strength 
so small ? Fear not the lions ; for they are chained, and are 
placed there for trial of faith where it is, and for discovery of 
those that have none. Keep in the midst of the path, and no 
hurt shall come unto thee. 

Then I saw that he went on, trembling for fear of the lions, 
but taking good heed to the directions of the Porter. He 
heard them roar ; but they did him no harm. Then he clapt 
his hands, and went on till he came and stood before the gate 
where the Porter was. Then said Christian to the Porter, 
Sir, what house is this 1 and may I lodge here to-night 1 The 
Porter answered, This house was built by the Lord of the hill ; 
and he built it for the relief and security of pilgrims. The 
Porter also asked whence he was, and whither he was going. 

Chr. I am come from the city of Destruction, and am going 
to Mount Zion ; but because the sun is now set, I desire, if I 
may, to lodge here to-night. 

Port. What is your name 1 

Chr. My name is now Christian ; but my name at the first 



TALK WITH DISCRETION 45 

was Graceless. I came of the race of Japhet, whom God will 
persuade to dwell in the tents of Shern. 

Port. But how doth it happen that you come so late? 
The sun is set. 

Chr. I had been here sooner, but that, wretched man that 
I am ! I slept in the arbor that stands on the hill- side. Nay, 
I had, notwithstanding that, been here much sooner, but that 
in my sleep I lost my evidence, and came without it to the 
brow of the hill ; and then feeling for it, and finding it not, I 
was forced with sorrow of heart to go back to the place where 
I slept my sleep, where I found it, and now I am come. 

Port. Well, I will call out one of the virgins of this place, 
who will, if she likes your talk, bring you in to the rest of the 
family, according to the rules of the house. So Watchful the 
Porter rang a bell, at the sound of which came out of the door 
of the house a grave and beautiful damsel, named Discretion, 
and asked why she was called. 

The Porter answered, This man is in a journey from the 
city of Destruction to Mount Zion ; but, being weary and 
benighted, he asked me if he might lodge here to-night. So 
I told him I would call for thee, who, after discourse had with 
him, mayest do as seemeth thee good, even according to the 
law of the house. 

Then she asked him whence he was and whither he was 
going ; and he told her. She asked him also how he got into 
the way ; and he told her. Then she asked him what he had 
seen and met with in the way; and he told her. And at 
last she asked his name. So he said, It is Christian ; and I 
have so much the more a desire to lodge here to-night, because, 
by what I perceive, this place was built by the Lord of the 
hill for the relief and security of pilgrims. So she smiled, 
but the water stood in her eyes ; and after a little pause she 
said, " I will call forth two or three more of the family." So 
she rah to the door, and called out Prudence, Piety, and 
Charity, who, after a little more discourse with him, had him. 
into the family; and many of them, meeting him at the 
threshold of the house, said, " Come in, thou blessed of the 



46 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Lord. This house was built by the Lord of the hill on pur- 
pose to entertain such pilgrims in." Then he bowed his head, 
and followed them into the house. So when he was come in 
and set down, they gave him something to drink, and con- 
sented together that, until supper was ready, some of them 
should have some particular discourse with Christian, for the 
best improvement of time ; and they appointed Piety, Pru- 
dence, and Charity to discourse with him. And thus they 
began. 

Piety. Come, good Christian, since we have been so loving 
to you to receive you into our house this night, let us, if 
perhaps we may better ourselves thereby, talk with you of all 
things that have happened to you in your pilgrimage. 

Chr. With a very good will ; and I am glad that you are 
so well disposed. 

Piety. "What moved you at first to betake yourself to 
a pilgrim's life? 

Chr. I was driven out of my native country by a dreadful 
sound that was in mine ears ; to wit, that unavoidable destruc- 
tion did attend me, if I abode in that place where I was. 

Piety. But how did it happen that you came out of your 
country this way 1 

Chr. It was as God would have it ; for when I was under 
the fears of destruction, I did not know whither to go ; but 
by chance there came a man, even to me, as I was trembling 
and weeping, whose name is Evangelist, and he directed me 
to the Wicket-gate, which else I should never have found, 
and so set me into the way that hath led me directly to this 
house. 

Piety. But did you not come by the house of the Inter- 
preter ? 

Chr. Yes, and did see such things there, the remembrance 
of which will stick by me as long as I live, especially three 
things ; to wit, how Christ, in despite of Satan, maintains his 
work of grace in the heart, how the man had sinned himself 
quite out of hopes of God's mercy, and also the dream of him 
that thought in his sleep the day of judgment was come. 



TALK WITH PIETY 47 

Piety. Why, did you hear him tell his dream 1 

Chr. Yes, and a dreadful one it was, I thought. It made 
my heart ache as he was telling of it ; but yet I am glad I 
heard it. 

Piety. Was that all you saw at the house of the Inter- 
preter ? 

Chr. No, he took me, and had me where he showed me a 
stately palace, and how the people were clad in gold that were 
in it, and how there came a venturous man, and cut his way 
through the armed men that stood in the door to keep him 
out, and how he was bid to come in and win eternal glory. 
Methought those things did ravish my heart. I would have 
stayed at that good man's house a twelvemonth, but that I 
knew I had farther to go. 

Piety. And what saw you else in the way 1 

Chr. Saw ! Why, I went but a little further, and I saw 
One, as I thought in my mind, hang bleeding upon a tree ; 
and the very sight of him made my burden fall off my back ; 
for I groaned under a very heavy burden, but then it fell 
down from off me. It was a strange thing to me; for I never 
saw such a thing before. Yea, and while I stood looking up, 
(for then I could not forbear looking) three shining ones 
came to me. One of them testified that my sins were forgiven 
me ; another stript me of my rags, and gave me this broidred 
coat which you see; and the third set the mark which you see 
in my forehead, and gave me this sealed roll (and with that 
he plucked it out of his bosom.) 

Piety. But you saw more than this, did you not 1 

Chr. The things that I have told you were the best. Yet 
some other matters I saw, as, namely, I saw three men, Simple, 
Sloth, and Presumption, lie asleep, a little out of the way, as 
I came, with irons upon their heels. But do you think I 
could awake them 1 I also saw Formality and Hypocrisy 
come tumbling over the wall, to go, as they pretended, to 
Zion; but they were quickly lost, even as 1 myself did tell 
them, but they would not believe. But, above all, I found it 
hard work to get up this hill, and as hard to come by the 



48 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

lions' mouth ; and, truly, if it had not been for the good man 
the porter, that stands at the gate, I do not know but that, 
after all, I might have gone back again. But I thank God I 
am here, and thank you for receiving of me. 

Then Prudence thought good to ask him a few questions, 
and desired his answer to them. 

Pru. Do you not think sometimes of the country from 
whence you came ? 

Chr. Yes, but with much shame and detestation. Truly, 
if I had been mindful of that country from whence I came 
out, I might have had opportunity to have returned ; but now 
I desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. 

Pru. Do you not yet bear away with you some of the 
things that then you were conversant withal ? 

Chr. Yes, but greatly against my will; especially my 
inward and carnal cogitations, with which all my countrymen, 
as well as myself, were delighted. But now all those things 
are my grief; and might I but choose mine own things, I 
would choose never to think of those things more ; but when 
I would be a-doing of that which is best, that which is worst 
is with me. 

Pru. Do you not find sometimes as if those things were 
vanquished which at other times are your perplexity ? 

Chr. Yes, but that is but seldom ; but they are to me 
golden hours in which such things happens to me. 

Pru. Can you remember by what means you find your 
annoyances at times as if they were vanquished ? 

Chr. Yes, when I think what I saw at the cross, that will 
do it; and when I look upon my broidered coat, that will 
do it ; and when I look into the roll that I carry in my bosom, 
that will do it ; and when my thoughts wax warm about 
whither I am going, that will do it. 

Pru. And what is it that makes you so desirous to go to 
Mount Zion 1 

Chr. Why, there I hope to see Him alive that did hang 
dead on the cross ; and there I hope to be rid of all those 
things that to this day are in me an annoyance to me. There 



TALK WITH CHARITY 49 

they say there is no death ; and there I shall dwell with such 
company as I like best. For, to tell you the truth, I love 
Him because I was by him eased of my burden ; and I am 
weary of my inward sickness. I would fain be where I shall 
die no more, and with the company that shall continually cry, 
Holy ^ holy, holy. 

Then said Charity to Christian, Have you a family; are 
you a married man 1 

Chr. I have a wife and four small children. 

Char. And why did you not bring them along with you 1 

Chr. Then Christian wept, and said, Oh, how willingly 
would I have done it ! but they were all of them utterly 
averse to my going on pilgrimage. 

Char. But you should have talked to them, and have en- 
deavored to have shown them the danger of being behind. 

Chr. So I did, and told them also what God had showed 
to me of the destruction of our city ; but I seemed to them 
as one that mocked, and they believed me not. 

Char. And did you pray to God that he would bless your 
counsel to them 1 

Chr. Yes, and that with much affection ; for you must 
think that my wife and poor children were very dear unto me. 

Char. But did you tell them of your own sorrow, and fear 
of destruction? for I suppose that destruction was visible 
enough to you. 

Chr. Yes, over, and over, and over. They might also 
see my fears in my countenance, in my tears, and also in my 
trembling under the apprehension of the judgment that did 
hang over our heads ; but all was not sufficient to prevail 
with them to come with me. 

Char. But what could they say for themselves, why they 
came not 1 

Chr. Why, my wife was afraid of losing this world ; and 
my children were given to the foolish delights of youth. So, 
what by one thing, and what by another, they left me to 
wander in this manner alone. 

Char. But did you not, with your vain life, damp all that 

4 



50 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

you, by words, used by way of persuasion to bring them away 
with you ? 

Chr. Indeed, I cannot commend my life; for I am con- 
scious to myself of many failings therein. I know also that a 
man by his conversation may soon overthrow what by argu- 
ment or persuasion he doth labor to fasten upon others for 
their good. Yet this I can say, I was very wary of giving 
them occasion, by any unseemly action, to make them averse 
to going on pilgrimage. Yea, for this very thing they would 
tell me I was too precise, and that I denied myself of things 
for their sakes in which they saw no evil. Nay, I think I may 
say that if what they saw in me did hinder them, it was my 
great tenderness in sinning against God, or of doing any wrong 
to my neighbor. 

Char. Indeed, Cain hated his brother, because his own 
works were evil, and his brother's righteous ; and if thy wife 
and children have been offended with thee for this, they 
thereby show themselves to be implacable to good. Thou 
hast delivered thy soul from their blood. 

Now I saw in my dream that thus they sat talking together 
until supper was ready. So when they had made ready, they 
sat down to meat. Now the table was furnished with fat 
things, and with wine that was well refined ; and all their talk 
at the table was about the Lord of the hill ; as, namely, about 
what he had done, and wherefore he did what he did, and why 
he had builded that house. And by what they said I per- 
ceived that he had been a great warrior, and had fought with 
and slain him that had the power of death, but not without 
great danger to himself, which made me love him the more. 

For, as they said, and as I believe, said Christian, he did it 
with the loss of much blood. But that which put glory of 
grace into all he did was that he did it out of pure love to 
his country. And besides, there were some of them of the 
household that said they had been and spoke with him since 
he did die on the cross ; and they have attested that they had 
it from his own lips that he is such a lover of poor pilgrims 
that the like is not to be found from the east to the west. 



THE WONDERS SHOWN 51 

They moreover gave an instance of what they affirmed ; and 
that was, he had stript himself of his glory that he might do 
this for the poor, and that they heard him say and affirm that 
he would not dwell in the mountain of Zion alone. They 
said, moreover, that he had made many pilgrims princes, 
though by nature they were beggars born, and their original 
had been the dunghill. 

Thus they discoursed together till late at night ; and 
after they had committed themselves to their Lord for pro- 
tection, they betook themselves to rest. The pilgrim they 
laid in a large upper chamber, whose window opened towards 
the sun-rising. The name of the chamber was Peace, where 
he slept till break of day ; and then he awoke and sang, 

" Where am I now 1 Is this the love and care 
Of Jesus for the men that pilgrims are, 
Thus to provide that I should be forgiven 
And dwell already the next door to heaven ? " 

So in the morning they all got up ; and, after some more dis- 
course, they told him that he should not depart till they had 
showed him the rarities of that place. And first they had 
him into the study, where they showed him records of the 
greatest antiquity, in which, as I remember my dream, they 
showed him first the pedigree of the Lord of the hill, that he 
was the Son of the Ancient of days, and came by that eternal 
generation. Here also was more fully recorded the acts that 
he had done, and the names of many hundreds that he had 
taken into his service ; and how he had placed them in such 
habitations that could neither by length of days, nor decays of 
nature, be dissolved. 

Then they read to him some of the worthy acts that some 
of his servants had done ; as how they had subdued kingdoms, 
wrought righteousness, obtained promises, stopped the mouths 
of lions, quenched the violence of fire, escaped the edge of the 
sword, out of weakness were made strong, waxed valiant in 
fight, and turned to flight the armies of the aliens. 

Then they read again, in another part of the records of the 



52 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

house, where it was showed how willing their Lord was to re- 
ceive into his favor any, even any, though they in time past 
had offered great affronts to his person and proceedings. Here 
also were several other histories of many other famous things, 
of all which Christian had a view, as of things both ancient 
and modern, together with prophecies and predictions of things 
that have their certain accomplishment, both to the dread 
and amazement of enemies, and the comfort and solace of 
pilgrims. 

The next day they took him and had him into the armory, 
where they showed him all manner of furniture which their 
Lord had provided for pilgrims, as sword, shield, helmet, breast- 
plate, all-prayer, and shoes that would not wear out. And 
there was here enough of this to harness out as many men 
for the service of their Lord as there be stars in the heaven 
for multitude. 

They also showed him some of the engines with which some 
of his servants had done wonderful things. They showed him 
Moses' rod, the hammer and nail with which Jael slew Sisera, 
the pitchers, trumpets, and lamps too, with which Gideon put 
to flight the armies of Midian. Then they showed him the 
ox's goad wherewith Shamgar slew six hundred men. They 
showed him also the jawbone with which Samson did such 
mighty feats. They showed him, moreover, the sling and stone 
with which David slew Goliath of Gath, and the sword also 
with which their Lord will kill the man of sin in the day that 
he shall rise up to the prey. They showed him besides many 
excellent things, with which Christian was much delighted. 
This done, they went to their rest again. 

Then I saw in my dream, that on the morrow he got up to 
go forwards ; but they desired him to stay till the next day 
also; "and then," said they, "we will, if the day be clear, 
show you the Delectable Mountains," which, they said, would 
yet further add to his comfort, because they were nearer the 
desired haven than the place where at present he was. So he 
consented and staid. When the morning was up, they had 
him to the top of the house, and bid him look south. So he 



CHRISTIAN RESUMES HIS JOURNEY 53 

did, and behold, at a great distance he saw a most pleasant 
mountainous country, beautified with woods, vineyards, fruits 
of all sorts, flowers also, with springs and fountains, very de- 
lectable to behold. Then he asked the name of the country. 
They said it was Immanuel's land; "and it is as common," 
said they, " as this hill is, to and for all the pilgrims. And 
when thou comest there, from thence thou mayest see to the 
gate of the celestial city, as the shepherds that live there will 
make appear." 

Now he bethought himself of setting forward ; and they 
were willing he should. "But first," said they, "let us go 
again into the armory." So they did ; and when he came 
there, they harnessed him from head to foot with what was 
of proof, lest perhaps he should meet with assaults in the way. 
He being therefore thus accoutred, walketh out with his friends 
to the gate ; and there he asked the porter if he saw any pil- 
grim pass by. Then the porter answered, Yes. 

Chr. Pray, did you know him 1 said he. 

Port. I asked his name ; and he told me it was Faithful. 

Chr. Oh ! said Christian, I know him. He is my towns- 
man, my near neighbor ; he comes from the place where I was 
born. How far do you think he may be before ? 

Port. He is got by this time below the hill. 

Chr. Well, said Christian, good porter, the Lord be with 
thee, and add to all thy blessings much increase for the kind- 
ness that thou hast showed me. 

Then he began to go forward ; but Discretion, Piety, Char- 
ity, and Prudence would accompany him down to the foot of 
the hill. So they went on together, reiterating their former 
discourses, till they came to go down the hill. Then said 
Christian, "As it was difficult coming up, so, so far as I can 
see, it is dangerous going down." "Yes," said Prudence, "so 
it is ; for it is an hard matter for a man to go down into the 
valley of Humiliation, as thou art now, and to catch no slip 
by the way. Therefore," said they, "we are come out to 
accompany thee down the hill." So he began to go down, 
but very warily. Yet he caught a slip or two. 



54 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Then I saw in my dream that these good companions, when 
Christian was gone down to the bottom of the hill, gave him a 
loaf of bread, a bottle of wine, and a cluster of raisins ; and 
then he went on his way. 

But now, in this valley of Humiliation, poor Christian was 
hard put to it; for he had gone but a little way before he 
espied a foul fiend coming over the field to meet him. His 
name is Apollyon. Then did Christian begin to be afraid, 
and to cast in his mind whether to go back or to stand his 
ground. But he considered again that he had no armor for 
his back, and therefore thought that to turn the back to him 
might give him greater advantage with ease to pierce him 
with his darts. Therefore he resolved to venture and stand 
his ground ; for, thought he, had I no more in mine eye than 
the saving of my life, 't would be the best way to stand. 

So he went on, and Apollyon met him. Now the monster 
was hideous to behold. He was clothed with scales like a 
fish, and they are his pride. He had wings like a dragon, feet 
like a bear ; and out of his belly came fire and smoke, and his 
mouth was as the mouth of a lion. "When he was come up to 
Christian, he beheld him with a disdainful countenance, and 
thus began to question him. 

Apollyon. Whence came you, and whither are you bound ? 

Chr. I am come from the city of Destruction, which is the 
place of all evil, and am going to the city of Zion. 

Apol. By this I perceive that thou art one of my subjects ; 
for all that country is mine, and I am the prince and god of it. 
How is it, then, that thou hast run away from thy king? 
Were it not that I hope thou mayest do me more service, I 
would strike thee. now at one blow to the ground. 

Chr. I was, indeed, born in your dominions ; but your ser- 
vice was hard, and your wages such as a man could not live 
on ; for the wages of sin is death. Therefore, when I was 
come to years, I did, as other considerate persons do, look out 
if perhaps I might mend myself. 

Apol. There is no prince that will thus lightly lose his sub- 
jects; neither will I as yet lose thee; but since thou com- 



A POLL YON' S DISCOURSE r>:> 

plainest of thy service and wages, be content to go back. What 
our country will afford I do here promise to give thee. 

Chr. But I have let myself to another, even to the King of 
princes ; and how can I with fairness go back with thee 1 

Apol. Thou hast done in this according to the proverb, 
changed a bad for a worse ; but it is ordinary for those that 
have professed themselves his servants, after a while to give 
him the slip and return again to me. Do thou so too, and all 
shall be well. 

Chr. I have given him my faith, and sworn my allegiance 
to him. How, then, can I go back from this, and not be 
hanged as a traitor? 

Apol. Thou didst the same by me ; and yet I am willing 
to pass by all, if now thou wilt yet turn again and go back. 

Chr. What I promised thee was in my nonage ; and besides, 
I count that the Prince under whose banner I now stand is 
able to absolve me, yea, and to pardon also what I did as to 
my compliance with thee. And besides, thou destroying 
Apollyon, to speak truth, I like his service, his wages, his ser- 
vants, his government, his company, and country, better than 
thine. Therefore leave off to persuade me further ; I am his 
servant, and I will follow him. 

Apol. Consider again, when thou art in cool blood, what 
thou art like to meet with in the way that thou goest. Thou 
knowest that for the most part his servants come to an ill end, 
because they are transgressors against me and my ways. How 
many of them have been put to shameful deaths ! And be- 
sides, thou countest his service better than mine, whereas he 
never came yet from the place where he is, to deliver any that 
served him out of their hands ; but as for me, how many times, 
as all the world very well knows, have I delivered, either by 
power or fraud, those that have faithfully served me, from him 
and his, though taken by them ! And so I will deliver thee. 

Chr. His forbearing at present to deliver them is on pur- 
pose to try their love, whether they will cleave to him to the 
end ; and as for the ill end thou sayest they come to, that is 
most glorious in their account. For, for present deliverance, 



56 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

they do not much expect it ; for they stay for their glory, 
and then they shall have it when their Prince comes in his 
and the glory of the angels. 

Apol. Thou hast already heen unfaithful in thy service to 
him ; and how dost thou think to receive wages of him 1 

Chr. Wherein, Apollyon, have I been unfaithful to him ? 

Apol. Thou didst faint at first setting out, when thou wast 
almost choked in the gulf of Despond. Thou didst attempt 
wrong ways to be rid of thy burden, whereas thou shouldest 
have stayed till thy Prince had taken it off. Thou didst sin- 
fully sleep, and lose thy choice thing. Thou wast also almost 
persuaded to go back at the sight of the lions. And when 
thou talkest of thy journey, and of what thou hast heard and 
seen, thou art inwardly desirous of vainglory in all that thou 
sayest or.doest. 

Chr. All this is true, and much more which thou has left 
out ; but the Prince whom I serve and honor is merciful, and 
ready to forgive. But besides, these infirmities possessed me 
in thy country, for there I suckt them in ; and I have groaned 
under them, been sorry for them, and have obtained pardon 
of my Prince. 

Apol. Then Apollyon broke out into a grievous rage, say- 
ing, I am an enemy to this Prince ; I hate his person, his laws, 
and people. I am come out on purpose to withstand thee. 

Chr. Apollyon, beware what you do ; for I am in the King's 
highway, the way of holiness. Therefore take heed to yourself. 

Apol. Then Apollyon straddled quite over the whole 
breadth of the way, and said, I am void of fear in this matter. 
Prepare thyself to die ; for I swear by my infernal den that 
thou shalt go no further. Here will I spill thy soul. And 
with that he threw a flaming dart at his breast ; but Christian 
had a shield in his hand, with which he caught it, and so pre- 
vented the danger of that. 

Then did Christian draw, for he saw 't was time to bestir 
him ; and Apollyon as fast made at him, throwing darts as 
thick as hail, by the which, notwithstanding all that Christian 
could do to avoid it, Apollyon wounded him m his head, his 



CONFLICT WITH APOLLYON 57 

hand, and foot. This made Christian give a little back. 
Apollyon, therefore, followed his work amain ; and Christian 
again took courage, and resisted as manfully as he could. 
This sore combat lasted for above half a day, even till Chris- 
tian was almost quite spent ; for you must know that Chris- 
tian, by reason of his wounds, must needs grow weaker and 
weaker. 

Then Apollyon, espying his opportunity, began to gather up 
close to Christian and, wrestling with him, gave him a dread- 
ful fall ; and with that Christian's sword flew out of his hand. 
Then said Apollyon, I am sure of thee now ; and with that 
he had almost prest him to death, so that Christian began to 
despair of life. But, as God would have it, while Apollyon 
was fetching of his last blow, thereby to make a full end of 
this good man, Christian nimbly reached out his hand for his 
sword, and caught it, saying, Rejoice not against me, mine 
enemy ; when I fall, I shall arise ; and with that gave him a 
deadly thrust, which made him give back, as one that had re- 
ceived his mortal wound. Christian, perceiving that, made at 
him again, saying, Nay, in all these things we are more than 
conquerors, through Him that loved us. And with that 
Apollyon spread forth his dragon's wings and sped him away, 
that Christian saw him no more. 

In this combat no man can imagine, unless he had seen and 
heard, as I did, what yelling and hideous roaring Apollyon 
made all the time of the fight (He spake like a dragon) ; and 
on the other side, what sighs and groans burst from Christian's 
heart. I never saw him all the while give so much as one 
pleasant look, till he perceived he had wounded Apollyon with 
his two-edged sword. Then, indeed, he did smile, and look 
upward. But 't was the dreadfullest sight that ever I saw. 

So when the battle was over, Christian said, I will here give 
thanks to Him that hath delivered me out of the mouth of 
the lion, to Him that did help me against Apollyon. And so 
he did, saying, 

"Great Beelzebub, the captain of this fiend, 
Designed my ruin. Therefore to this end 



58 ■ THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

He sent him harnest out ; and he, with rage 
That hellish was, did fiercely me engage. 
But blessed Michael helped me ; and I, 
By dint of sword, did quickly make him fly. 
Therefore to Him let me give lasting praise, 
And thank and bless his holy name always." 

Then there came to him a hand with some of the leaves 
of the tree of life, the which Christian took and applied to 
the wounds that he had received in the battle, and was healed 
immediately. He also sat down in that place to eat bread, 
and to drink of the bottle that was given him a little before. 
So, being refreshed, he addressed himself to his journey with 
his sword drawn in his hand ; for he said, I know not but 
some other enemy may be at hand. But he met with no other 
affront from Apollyon quite through this valley. 

Now at the end of this valley was another, called the Valley 
of the Shadow of Death ; and Christian must needs go through 
it, because the way to the Celestial City lay through the 
midst of it. Now this valley is a very solitary place. The 
prophet Jeremiah thus describes it : "A wilderness, a land of 
deserts and of pits, a land of drought, and of the Shadow of 
Death, a land that no man " (but a Christian) " passeth through, 
and where no man dwelt." Now here Christian was worse 
put to it than in his fight with Apollyon, as by the sequel 
you shall see. 

I saw then in my dream that when Christian was got to 
the borders of the Shadow of Death, there met him two men, 
children of them that brought up an evil report of the good 
land, making haste to go back ; to whom Christian spake as 
follows. 

Chr. Whither are you going ? 

Men. They said, Back, back ; and we would have you do 
so too, if either life or peace is prized by you. 

Chr. Why, what 's the matter 1 said Christian. 

Men. Matter ! said they ; we were going that way as you 
are going, and went as far as we durst ; and indeed we were 



THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW 59 

almost past coming back, for, had we gone a little further, we 
had not been here to bring the news to thee. 

Chr. But what have you met with % said Christian. 

Men. Why, we were almost in the Valley of the Shadow of 
Death, but that by good hap we looked before us, and saw the 
danger before we came to it. 

Chr. But what have you seen % said Christian. 

Men. Seen ! why, the valley itself, which is as dark as pitch. 
We also saw there the hobgoblins, satyrs, and dragons of the 
pit. We heard also in that valley a continual howling and 
yelling, as of a people under unutterable misery, who there 
sat bound in affliction and irons ; and over that valley hangs 
the discouraging clouds of confusion. Death also doth al- 
ways spread his wings over it. In a word, it is every whit 
dreadful, being utterly without order. 

Chr. Then, said Christian, I perceive not yet, by what you 
have said, but that this is my way to the desired haven. 

Men. Be it thy way ; we will not choose it for ours. 

So they parted, and Christian went on his way, but still 
with his sword drawn in his hand, for fear lest he should be 
assaulted. 

I saw then in my dream, so far as this valley reached, there 
was on the right hand a very deep ditch. That ditch is it 
into which the blind have led the blind in all ages, and have 
both there miserably perished. Again, behold, on the left hand 
there was a very dangerous quag, into which, if even a good 
man falls, he can find no bottom for his foot to stand on. 
Into that quag King David once did fall, and had no doubt 
therein been smothered, had not He that is able pluckt him out. 

The pathway was here also exceeding narrow, and therefore 
good Christian was the more put to it ; for when he sought, in 
the dark, to shun the ditch on the one hand, he was ready to 
tip over into the mire on the other ; also, when he sought to 
escape the mire, without great carefulness he would be ready 
to fall into the ditch. Thus he went on, and I heard him here 
sigh bitterly ; for besides the danger mentioned above, the 
pathway was here so dark that ofttimes, when he lift up his 



6 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

foot to go forward, he knew not where, or upon what, he should 
set it next. 

About the midst of this valley I perceived the mouth of hell 
to be ; and it stood also hard by the wayside. Now, thought 
Christian, what shall I do 1 And ever and anon the flame and 
smoke would come out in such abundance, with sparks and 
hideous noises (things that cared not for Christian's sword, 
as did Apollyon before), that he was forced to put up his sword 
and betake himself to another weapon, called All-prayer. So 
he cried, in my hearing, Lord, I beseech thee, deliver my 
soul. Thus he went on a great while. Yet still the flames 
would be reaching towards him ; also he heard doleful voices, 
and rushings to and fro, so that sometimes he thought he 
should be torn in pieces, or trodden down like mire in the 
streets. This frightful sight was seen, and these dreadful 
noises were heard by him for several miles together ; and com- 
ing to a place where he thought he heard a company of fiends 
coming forward to meet him, he stopt, and began to muse what 
he had best to do. Sometimes he had half a thought to go 
back ; then again he thought he might be half-way through 
the valley. He remembred also how he had already van- 
quished many a danger, and that the danger of going back 
might be much more than for to go forward. So he resolved 
to go on ; yet the fiends seemed to come nearer and nearer. 
But when they were come even almost at him, he cried out 
with a most vehement voice, I will walk in the strength of the 
Lord God. So they gave back, and came no further. 

One thing I would not let slip. I took notice that now 
poor Christian was so confounded that he did not know his 
own voice ; and thus I perceived it. Just when he was come 
over against the mouth of the burning pit, one of the wicked 
ones got behind him, and stept up softly to him, and whisper- 
ingly suggested many grievous blasphemies to him, which he 
verily thought had proceeded from his own mind. This put 
Christian more to it than any thing that he met with before, 
even to think that he should now blaspheme Him that he 
loved so much before. Yet if he could have helped it, he 



DAY BREAKS 6 1 

would not have done it ; but he had not the discretion either 
to stop his ears, or to know from whence those blasphemies 
came. 

When Christian had travelled in this disconsolate condition 
some considerable time, he thought he heard the voice of a man, 
as going before him, saying, Though I walk through the Valley 
of the Shadow of Death, I will fear none ill ; for thou art with 
me. Then was he glad, and that for these reasons: first, be- 
cause he gathered from thence that some who feared God were 
in this valley as well as himself; secondly, for that he per- 
ceived God was with them, though in that dark and dismal 
state (and why not, thought he, with me ? though by rea- 
son of the impediment that attends this place, I cannot per- 
ceive it.) ; thirdly, for that he hoped, could he overtake them, 
to have company by and by. So he went on, and called to 
him that was before ; but he knew not what to answer, for that 
he also thought himself to be alone. And by and by the day 
broke. Then said Christian, " He hath turned the shadow of 
death into the morning." 

Now, morning being come, he looked back, not out of desire 
to return, but to see by the light of the day what hazards he 
had gone through in the dark. So he saw more perfectly the 
ditch that was on the one hand, and the quag that was on the 
other ; also how narrow the way was which led betwixt them 
both. Also now he saw the hobgoblins, and satyrs, and 
dragons of the pit, but all afar oif ; for after break of day they 
came not nigh ; yet they were discovered to him, according to 
that which is written, " He disco vereth deep things out of 
darkness, and bringeth out to light the shadow of death." 

Now was Christian much affected with his deliverance from 
all the dangers of his solitary way ; which dangers, though he 
feared them much before, yet he saw them more clearly now, 
because the light of the day made them conspicuous to him. 
And about this time the sun was rising, and this was another 
mercy to Christian ; for you must note that though the first 
part of the Valley of the Shadow of Death was dangerous, yet 
this second part, which he was yet to go, was, if possible, far 



62 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

more dangerous ; for from the place where he now stood, even 
to the end of the valley, the way was all along set so full of 
snares, traps, gins, and nets here, and so full of pits, pitfalls, 
deep holes, and shelvings-down there, that had it now been 
dark, as it was when he came the first part of the way, had he 
had a thousand souls, they had in reason been cast away. But, 
as I said, just now the sun was rising. Then said he, "His 
candle shineth on my head ; and by his light I go through 
darkness." 

In this light, therefore, he came to the end of the valley. 
Now I saw in my dream that at the end of the valley lay 
blood, bones, ashes, and mangled bodies of men, even of pil- 
grims that had gone this way formerly ; and, while I was 
musing what should be the reason, I espied a little before me 
a cave, where two giants, Pope and Pagan, dwelt in old times, 
by whose power and tyranny the men whose bones, blood, 
ashes, etc., lay there, were cruelly put to death. But by this 
place Christian went without much danger, whereat I some- 
what wondered ; but I have learnt since that Pagan has been 
dead many a day; and as for the other, though he be yet 
alive, he is by reason of age and also of the many shrewd 
brushes that he met with in his younger days grown so crazy 
and stiff in his joints that he can now do little more than sit 
in his cave's mouth, grinning at pilgrims as they go by, and 
biting his nails because he cannot come at them. 

So I saw that Christian went on his way. Yet at the sight 
of the old man that sat in the mouth of the cave he could not 
tell what to think, especially because he spake to him, though 
he could not go after him, saying, You will never mend till 
more of you be burned. But he held his peace, and set a 
good face on 't, and so went by, and catcht no hurt. Then 
sang Christian. 

" world of wonders (I can say no less), 
That I should be preserved in that distress 
That I have met with here ! O blessed be 
That hand that from it hath delivered me ! 
Dangers in darkness, devils, hell, and sin 



CHRISTIAN OVERTAKES FAITHFUL 63 

Did compass me, while I this vale was in. 

Yea, snares, and pits, and traps, and nets did lie 

My path about, that worthless, silly I 

Might have been catcht, entangled, and cast down. 

But since I live, let JESUS wear the crown." 

Now, as Christian went on his way, he came to a little 
ascent, which was cast up on purpose that pilgrims might see 
before them. Up there, therefore, Christian went; and, looking 
forward, he saw Faithful before him upon his journey. Then 
said Christian aloud, Ho, ho ! so-ho ! stay, and I will be your 
companion. At that Faithful looked behind him ; to whom 
Christian cried again, Stay, stay, till I come up to you. But 
Faithful answered, No, I am upon my life ; and the avenger of 
blood is behind me. 

At this Christian was somewhat moved and, putting to all 
his strength, he quickly got up with Faithful, and did also 
overrun him ; so the last was first. Then did Christian vain- 
gloriously smile, because he had gotten the start of his brother ; 
but, not taking good heed to his feet, he suddenly stumbled 
and fell, and could not rise again until Faithful came up to 
help him. 

Then I saw in my dream, they went very lovingly on to- 
gether, and had sweet discourse of all things that had hap- 
pened to them in their pilgrimage ; and thus Christian began. 

Chr. My honored and well-beloved brother Faithful, I am 
glad that I have overtaken you, and that God has so tempered 
our spirits that we can walk as companions in this so pleasant 
a path. 

Faith. I had thought, dear friend, to have had your com- 
pany quite from our town, but you did get the start of me ; 
wherefore I was forced to come thus much of the way alone. 

Chr. How long did you stay in the city of Destruction 
before you set out after me on your pilgrimage? 

Faith. Till I could stay no longer; for there was great 
talk presently, after you were gone out, that our city would, in 
a short time, with fire from heaven be burned down to the 
ground. 



64 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Chr. What ! did your neighbors talk so 1 

Faith. Yes, 't was for a while in every body's mouth. 

Chr. What ! and did no more of them but you come out to 
escape the danger ? 

Faith. Though there was, as I said, a great talk thereabout, 
yet I do not think they did firmly believe it ; for in the heat 
of the discourse I heard some of them deridingly speak of you 
and of your desperate journey, for so they called this your 
pilgrimage. But I did believe, and do still, that the end of 
our city will be with fire and brimstone from above; and 
therefore I have made mine escape. 

Chr. Did you hear no talk of neighbor Pliable ? 

Faith. Yes, Christian, I heard that he followed you till he 
came at the Slough of Despond, where, as some said, he fell in ; 
but he would not be known to have so done ; but I am sure 
he was soundly bedabbled with that kind of dirt. 

Chr. And what said the neighbors to him ? 

Faith. He hath, since his going back, been had greatly in 
derision, and that among all sorts of people. Some do mock 
and despise him ; and scarce will any set him on work. He 
is now seven times worse than if he had never gone out of the 
city. 

Chr. But why should they be so set against him, since 
they also despise the way that he forsook 1 

Faith. " Oh ! " they say, " Hang him ; he is a turncoat ; 
he was not true to his profession ! " I think God has stirred 
up even His enemies to hiss at him, and make him a proverb, 
because he hath forsaken the way. 

Chr. Had you no talk with him before you came out 1 

Faith. I met him once in the streets, but he leered away 
on the other side, as one ashamed of what he had done. So I 
spake not to him. ' 

Chr. Well, at my first setting out I had hopes of that man ; 
but now I fear he will perish in the overthrow of the city. 
For it has happened to him according to the true proverb. 
The dog is turned to his vomit again, and the sow that was 
washed to her wallowing in the mire. 



CHRISTIAN AND FAITHFUL 65 

Faith. These are my fears of him too ; but who can hinder 
that which will be 1 

Chr. Well, neighbor Faithful, said Christian, let us leave 
him, and talk of things that more immediately concern our- 
selves. Tell me now what you have met with in the way as 
you came ; for I know you have met with some things, or else 
it may be writ for a wonder. 

Faith. I escaped the slough that I perceived you fell into, 
and got up to the gate without that danger. Only I met with 
one whose name was Wanton, who had like to have done me a 
mischief. 

Chr. 'T was well you escaped her net. Joseph was hard 
put to it by her, and he escaped her as you did ; but it had 
like to have cost him his life. But what did she do to you ? 

Faith. You cannot think, but that you know something, 
what a flattering tongue she had. She lay at me hard to turn 
aside with her, promising me all manner of content. 

Chr. Nay, she did not promise you the content of a good 
conscience. 

Faith. You know that I mean all carnal and fleshly 
content. 

Chr. Thank God that you escaped her ! The abhorred of 
the Lord shall fall into her ditch. 

Faith. Nay, I know not whether I did wholly escape her 
or no. 

Chr. Why, I trow you did not consent to her desires 1 

Faith. No, not to defile myself; for I remembred an old 
writing that I had seen, which saith, " Her steps take hold of 
hell." So I shut mine eyes, because I would not be bewitched 
with her looks. Then she railed on me, and I went my way. 

Chr. Did you meet with no other assault as you came 1 

Faith. When I came to the foot of the hill called Difficulty, 
I met with a very aged man, who asked me what I was, and 
whither bound. I told him that I was a pilgrim, going to the 
Celestial City. Then said the old man, Thou lookest like an 
honest fellow. Wilt thou be content to dwell with me for the 
wages that I shall give thee 1 Then I asked his name, and 

5 



66 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

where be dwelt. He said his name was Adam the First, and 
that he dwelt in the town of Deceit. I asked him then what 
was his work, and what the wages that he would give. He 
told me that his work was many delights, and his wages, that I 
should be his heir at last. I further asked him what house he 
kept, and what other servants he had. So he told me that 
his house was maintained with all the dainties in the world, 
and that his servants were those of his own begetting. Then 
I asked how many children he had. He said that he had but 
three daughters, the Lust of the Flesh, the Lust of the Eyes, 
and the Pride of Life, and that I should marry them if I would. 
Then I asked how long time he would have me live with him ; 
and he told me, as long as he lived himself. 

Chr. Well, and what conclusion came the old man and you 
to at last ? 

Faith. Why, at first I found myself somewhat inclinable 
to go with the man, for I thought he spake very fair; but, 
looking in his forehead as I talked with him, I saw there 
written, " Put off the old man with his deeds." 

Chr. And how then ? 

Faith. Then it came burning hot into my mind, whatever 
he said, and however he flattered, when he got me home to 
his house he would sell me for a slave. So I bid him forbear 
to talk ; for I would not come near the door of his house. 
Then he reviled me, and told me that he would send such a 
one after me that should make my way bitter to my soul. 
So I turned to go away from him ; but just as I turned myself 
to go thence, I felt him take hold of my flesh, and give me such 
a deadly twitch back that I thought he had pulled part of 
me after himself. This made me cry, " wretched man ! " 
So I went on my way up the hill. 

Now, when I had got about half-way up, I looked behind 
me, and saw one coming after me, swift as the wind. So he 
overtook me just about the place where the settle stands. 

Chr. Just there, said Christian, did I sit down to rest me ; 
but, being overcome with sleep, I there lost this roll out of 
my bosom. 



CHRISTIAN AND FAITHFUL 67 

Faith. But good brother, hear me out. So soon as the 
man overtook me, he was but a word and a blow ; for down he 
knockt me, and laid me for dead. But when I was a little 
come to myself again, I asked him wherefore he served me so. 
He said, because of my secret inclining to Adam the First. 
And with that he strook me another deadly blow on the 
breast, and beat me down backward. So I lay at his foot as 
dead as before. So when I came to myself again, I cried him 
mercy ; but he said, I know not how to show mercy, and with 
that he knockt me down again. He had doubtless made an 
end of me, but that one came by and bid him forbear. 

Chr. Who was that that bid him forbear ? 

Faith. I did not know him at first ; but as he went by I 
perceived the holes in his hands and in his side. Then I con- 
cluded that he was our Lord. So I went up the hill. 

Chr. That man that overtook you was Moses. He spareth 
none ; neither knoweth he how to show mercy to those that 
transgress his law. 

Faith. I know it very well ; it was not the first time that 
he has met with me. 'T was he that came to me when I dwelt 
securely at home, and that told me that he would burn my 
house over my head if I staid there. 

Chr. But did you not see the house that stood there on 
the top of the hill on the side of which Moses met you % 

Faith. Yes, and the lions too, before I came at it. But, 
for the lions, I think they were asleep, for it was about noon • 
and because I had so much of the day before me, I passed by 
the porter, and came down the hill. 

Chr. He told me, indeed, that he saw you go by ; but I 
wish you had called at the house, for they would have showed 
you so many rarities that you would scarce have forgot them 
to the day of your death. But pray tell me, did you meet 
nobody in the Valley of Humility 1 

Faith. Yes, I met with one Discontent, who would will- 
ingly have persuaded me to go back again with him. His 
reason was, for that the valley was altogether without honor. 
He told me, moreover, that there to go was the way to 



68 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

disobey all my friends, as Pride, Arrogancy, Self-Conceit, 
Worldly Glory, with others, who he knew, as he said, would 
be very much offended if I made such a fool of myself as to 
wade through this valley. 

Chr. Well, and how did you answer him ? 

Faith. I told him that although all these that he named 
might claim kindred of me, and that rightly (for indeed they 
were my relations according to the flesh), yet since I became 
a pilgrim they have disowned me, and I also have rejected 
them ; and therefore they were to me now no more than if 
they had never been of my lineage. I told him, moreover, 
that as to this valley, he had quite misrepresented the thing ; 
for before honor is humility, and a haughty spirit before 
a fall. Therefore, said I, I had rather go through this valley 
to the honor that was so accounted by the wisest, than choose 
that which he esteemed most worthy our affections. 

Chr. Met you with nothing else in that valley ? 

Faith. Yes, I met with Shame ; but of all the men that I 
met with in my pilgrimage, he, I think, bears the wrong name. 
The others would be said nay, after a little argumentation, 
and somewhat else ; but this bold-faced Shame would never 
have done. 

Chr. Why, what did he say to you *? 

Faith. What ? why, he objected against religion itself. He 
said it was a pitiful, low, sneaking business for a man to mind 
religion. He said that a tender conscience was an unmanly 
thing, and that for a man to watch over his words and ways, 
so as to tie up himself from that hectoring liberty that the 
brave spirits of the times accustom themselves unto, would 
make him the ridicule of the times. He objected also that 
but few of the mighty, rich, or wise, were ever of my opinion ; 
nor any of them, neither, before they' were persuaded to be 
fools, and to be of a voluntary fondness to venture the loss 
of all for nobody else knows what. He moreover objected the 
base and low estate and condition of those that were chiefly 
the pilgrims of the times in which they lived, also their igno- 
rance and want of understanding in all natural science. Yea, 



SHAME 69 

he did hold me to it at that rate also about a great many 
more things than here I relate ; as that it was a shame to sit 
whining and mourning under a sermon, and a shame to come 
sighing and groaning home, that it was a shame to ask my 
neighbor forgiveness for petty faults, or to make restitution 
where I had taken from any. He said also that religion made 
a man grow strange to the great, because of a few vices, which 
he called by finer names, and made him own and respect the 
base, because of the same religious fraternity ; and is not this, 
said he, a shame ? 

Ghr. And what did you say to him 1 

Faith. Say 1 I could not tell what to say at first. Yea, 
he put me so to it that my blood came up in my face. Even 
this Shame fetcht it up, and had almost beat me quite off. 
But at last I began to consider that that which is highly 
esteemed among men is had in abomination with God. And 
I thought again, this Shame tells me what men are ; but it 
tells me nothing what God, or the word of God, is. And I 
thought, moreover, that at the day of doom we shall not be 
doomed to death or life according to the hectoring spirits of 
the world, but according to the wisdom and law of the Highest. 
Therefore, thought I, what God says is best, indeed is best, 
though all the men in the world are against it. Seeing, then, 
that God prefers his religion, seeing God prefers a tender con- 
science, seeing they that make themselves fools for the kingdom 
of heaven are wisest, and that the poor man that loveth Christ 
is richer than the greatest man in the world that hates him, 
Shame, depart ; thou art an enemy to my salvation. Shall I 
entertain thee against my sovereign Lord 1 How then shall 
I look Him in the face at his coming? Should I now be 
ashamed of his ways and servants, how can I expect the bless- 
ing? But indeed this Shame was a bold villain. I could 
scarcely shake him out of my company. Yea, he would be 
haunting of me, and continually whispering me in the ear with 
some one or other of the infirmities that attend religion. But 
at last I told him 't was but in vain to attempt further in this 
business ; for those things that he disdained, in those did I 



70 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

see most glory ; and so at last I got past this importunate 
one. And when I had shaken him off, then I began to sing, 

"The trials that those men do meet withal 
That are obedient to the heavenly call, 
Are manifold, and suited to the flesh, 
And come, and come, and come again afresh, 
That now, or some time else, we by them may 
Be taken, overcome, and cast away. 
Oh ! let the pilgrims, let the pilgrims then, 
Be vigilant, and quit themselves like men." 

Chr. I am glad, my brother, that thou didst withstand this 
villain so bravely ; for of all, as thou sayest, I think he has 
the wrong name; for he is so bold as to follow us in the 
streets, and to attempt to put us to shame before all men; 
that is, to make us ashamed of that which is good. But if he 
was not himself audacious, he would never attempt to do as 
he does. But let us still resist him ; for, notwithstanding all 
his bravadoes, he promoteth the fool, and none else. "The 
wise shall inherit glory," said Solomon; "but shame shall be 
the promotion of fools." 

Faith. I think we must cry to Him for help against Shame, 
that would have us be valiant for truth upon the earth. 

Chr. You say true ; but did you meet nobody else in that 
valley ? 

Faith. No, not I ; for I had sunshine all the rest of the 
way through that, and also through the Valley of the Shadow 
of Death. 

Chr. 'T was well for you. I am sure it fared far otherwise 
with me. I had for a long season, as soon almost as I entred 
into that valley, a dreadful combat with that foul fiend 
Apollyon. Yea, I thought verily he would have killed me, 
especially when he got me down, and crusht me under him, 
as if he would have crusht me to pieces ; for as he threw me, 
my sword flew out of my hand. Nay, he told me he was sure 
of me ; but I cried to God, and he heard me, and delivered me 
out of all my troubles. Then I entred into the Valley of 



TALKATIVE AND FAITHFUL 71 

the Shadow of Death, and had no light for almost half the 
way through it. I thought I should have been killed there 
over and over ; but at last day brake, and the sun rose, and 
I went through that which was behind with far more ease and 
quiet. 

Moreover, I saw in my dream that as they went on Faith- 
ful, as he chanced to look on one side, saw a man whose name 
is Talkative walking at a distance besides them ; for in this 
place there was room enough for them all to walk. He was a 
tall man, and something more comely at a distance than at 
hand. To this man Faithful addressed himself in this 
manner. 

Faith. Friend, whither away 1 ? Are you going to the 
heavenly country 1 

Talk. I am going to the same place. 

Faith. That is well ; then I hope we may have your good 
company ? 

Talk. With a very good will will I be your companion. 

Faith. Come on, then, and let us go together ; and let us 
spend our time in discoursing of things that are profitable. 

Talk. To talk of things that are good, to me is very ac- 
ceptable, with you or with any other ; and I am glad that I 
have met with those that incline to so good a work ; for, to 
speak the truth, there are but few who care thus to spend 
their time as they are in their travels, but choose much rather 
to be speaking of things to no profit ; and this hath been a 
trouble to me. 

Faith. That is, indeed, a thing to be lamented ; for what 
thing so worthy of the use of the tongue and mouth of men 
on earth as are the things of the God of heaven ? 

Talk. I like you wonderful well, for your sayings are full of 
conviction ; and I will add, What thing is so pleasant, and what 
so profitable, as to talk of the things of God 1 What things 
so pleasant ? that is, if a man hath any delight in things that 
are wonderful. For instance, if a man doth delight to talk of 
the history, or the mystery of things, or if a man doth love to 
talk of miracles, wonders, or signs, where shall he find things 



72 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

recorded so delightful, and so sweetly penned, as in the Holy 
Scripture ? 

Faith. That 's true ; but to be profited by such things in 
our talk, should be that which we design. 

Talk. That is it that I said ; for to talk of such things is 
most profitable ; for by so doing a man may get knowledge of 
many things, as of the vanity of earthly things, and the bene- 
fit of things above. Thus in general ; but, more particularly, 
by this a man may learn the necessity of the new birth, the 
insufficiency of our works, the need of Christ's righteousness, 
etc. Besides, by this a man may learn what it is to repent, 
to believe, to pray, to suffer, or the like. By this, also, a man 
may learn what are the great promises and consolations of the 
Gospel, to his own comfort. Further, by this a man may 
learn to refute false opinions, to vindicate the truth, and also 
to instruct the ignorant. 

Faith. All this is true ; and glad am I to hear these things 
from you. 

Talk. Alas ! the want of this is the cause that so few 
understand the need of faith, and the necessity of a work of 
grace in their souls, in order to eternal life, but ignorantly 
live in the works of the law, by which a man can by no means 
obtain the kingdom of heaven. 

Faith. But, by your leave, heavenly knowledge of these is 
the gift of God. No man attaineth to them by human in- 
dustry, or only by the talk of them. 

Talk. All this I know very well ; for a man can receive 
nothing, except it be given him from heaven. All is of grace, 
not of works. I could give you an hundred scriptures for the 
confirmation of this. 

Faith. Well, then, said Faithful, what is that one thing 
that we shall at this time found our discourse upon 1 

Talk. What you will. I will talk of things heavenly or 
things earthly, things moral or things evangelical, things 
sacred or things profane, things past or things to come, things 
foreign or things at home, things more essential or things cir- 
cumstantial, — provided that all be done to our profit. 



TALKATIVE' S CHARACTER 73 

Faith. Now did Faithful begin to wonder ; and, stepping 
to Christian (for he walked all this while by himself), he said 
to him, but softly, What a brave companion have we got ! 
Surely, this man will make a very excellent pilgrim. 

Chr. At this Christian modestly smiled, and said, This 
man, with whom you are so taken, will beguile with this tongue 
of his, twenty of them that know him not. 

Faith. Do you know him, then ? 

Chr. Know him ! Yes, better than he knows himself. 

Faith. Pray what is he ? 

Chr. His name is Talkative. He dwelleth in our town. 
I wonder that you should be a stranger to him ; only I con- 
sider that our town is large. 

Faith. Whose son is he? And whereabout doth he 
dwell i 

Chr. He is the son of one Say-well. He dwelt in Prating 
Row ; and he is known of all that are acquainted with him by 
the name of Talkative of Prating Row ; and, notwithstanding 
his fine tongue, he is but a sorry fellow. 

Faith. Well, he seems to be a very pretty man. 

Chr. That is, to them that have not a thorough acquaint- 
ance with him ; for he is best abroad. Near home he is ugly 
enough. Your saying that he is a pretty man brings to my 
mind what I have observed in the work of a painter whose 
pictures show best at a distance, but very near more un- 
pleasing. 

Faith. But I am ready to think you do but jest, because 
you smiled. 

Chr. God forbid that I should jest, though I smiled, in 
this matter, or that I should accuse any falsely. I will give 
you a further discovery of him. This man is for any com- 
pany, and for any talk. As he talketh now with you, so will 
he talk when he is on the ale-bench ; and the more drink he 
hath in his crown, the more of these things he hath in his 
mouth. Religion hath no place in his heart, or house, or 
conversation. All he hath lieth in his tongue ; and his reli- 
gion is to make a noise therewith. 



74 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Faith. Say you so 1 Then am I in this man greatly 
deceived. 

Chr. Deceived ! you may be sure of it. Remember the 
proverb, " They say, and do not ; " but the kingdom of God 
is not in word, but in power. He talketh of prayer, of repent- 
ance, of faith, and of the new birth ; but he knows but only 
to talk of them. I have been in his family, and have observed 
him both at home and abroad ; and I know what I say of him 
is the truth. His house is as empty of religion as the white 
of an egg is of savor. There is there neither prayer, nor sign 
of repentance for sin. Yea, the brute, in his kind, serves 
God far better than he. He is the very stain, reproach, and 
shame of religion to all that know him. It can hardly 
have a good word in all that end of the town where he 
dwells, through him. Thus say the common people that 
know him, " A saint abroad, and a devil at home." His poor 
family finds it so. He is such a churl, such a railer at, and 
so unreasonable with his servants that they neither know how 
to do for or speak to him. Men that have any dealings with 
him say it is better to deal with a Turk than with him ; 
for fairer dealings they shall have at their hands. This Talk- 
ative, if it be possible, will go beyond them, defraud, beguile, 
and overreach them. Besides, he brings up his sons to follow 
his steps ; and if he finds in any of them a foolish timorous- 
ness (for so he calls the first appearance of a tender con- 
science), he calls them fools and blockheads, and by no means 
will employ them in much, or speak to their commendations 
before others. For my part, I am of opinion that he has, by 
his wicked life, caused many to stumble and fall ; and will be, 
if God prevent not, the ruin of many more. 

Faith. Well, my brother, I am bound to believe you, not 
only because you say you know him, but also because, like a 
Christian, you make your reports of men. For I cannot think 
that you speak these things of ill-will, but because it is even 
so as you say. 

Chr. Had I known him no more than you, I might, per- 
haps, have thought of him as at the first you did. Yea, had 



TALKATIVE' S CHARACTER 75 

he received this report at their hands only that are enemies 
to religion, I should have thought it had been a slander, a 
lot that often falls from bad men's mouths upon good men's 
names and professions. But all these things, yea, and a great 
many more as bad, of my own knowledge I can prove him 
guilty of. Besides, good men are ashamed of him ; they can 
neither call him brother nor friend. The very naming of him 
among them makes them blush, if they know him. 

Faith. Well, I see that saying and doing are two things ; 
and hereafter I shall better observe this distinction. 

Chr. They are two things indeed, and are as diverse as are 
the soul and the body ; for, as the body without the soul is but 
a dead carcass, so saying, if it be alone, is but a dead carcass 
also. The soul of religion is the practick part. " Pure reli- 
gion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, to visit 
the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep him- 
self unspotted from the world." This Talkative is not aware 
of. He thinks that hearing and saying will make a good 
Christian ; and thus he deceiveth his own soul. Hearing is 
but as the sowing of the seed; talking is not sufficient to 
prove that fruit is indeed in the heart and life. And let us 
assure ourselves that at the day of doom men shall be judged 
according to their fruits. It will not be said then, Did you 
believe 1 but, Were you doers, or talkers only 1 and accord- 
ingly shall they be judged. The end of the world is compared 
to our harvest ; and you know men at harvest regard nothing 
but fruit. Not that anything can be accepted that is not of 
faith; but I speak this to show you how insignificant the 
profession of Talkative will be at that day. 

Faith. This brings to my mind that of Moses by which he 
describeth the beast that is clean. He is such an one that 
parteth the hoof and cheweth the cud ; not that parteth the 
hoof only, or that cheweth the cud only. The hare cheweth 
the cud, but yet is unclean, because he parteth not the hoof. 
And this truly resembleth Talkative. He cheweth the cud ; 
he seeketh knowledge ; he cheweth upon the word ; but he 
divideth not the hoof. He parteth not . with the way of 



76 THE PILGRIMS PROGRESS 

sinners ; but, as the hare, he retaineth the foot of the dog or 
bear, and therefore he is unclean. 

Chr. You have spoken, for aught I know, the true gospel 
sense of these texts. And I will add another thing. Paul 
calleth some men, yea, and those great talkers too, sounding 
brass, and tinkling cymbals ; that is, as he expounds them in 
another place, things without life giving sound ; — things with- 
out life, that is, without the true faith and grace of the Gos- 
pel, and consequently things that shall never be placed in the 
kingdom of heaven among those that are the children of life, 
though their sound, by their talk, be as if it were the tongue 
or voice of an angel. 

Faith. Well, I was not so fond of his company at first, 
but I am sick of it now. What shall we do to be rid of 
him? 

Chr. Take my advice, and do as I bid you ; and you shall 
find that he will soon be sick of your company too, except 
God shall touch his heart, and turn it. 

Faith. What would you have me to do 1 

Chr. Why, go to him, and enter into some serious discourse 
about the power of religion ; and ask him plainly when he has 
approved of it (for that he will) whether this thing be set up 
in his heart, house, or conversation. 

Faith. Then Faithful stept forward again, and said to 
Talkative, Come, what cheer ? How is it now 1 

Talk. Thank you, well. I thought we should have had a 
great deal of talk by this time. 

Faith. Well, if you will, we will fall to it now ; and since 
you left it with me to state the question, let it be this : How 
doth the saving grace of God discover itself when it is in the 
heart of man 1 

Talk. I perceive, then, that our talk must be about the 
power of things. Well, 't is a very good question ; and I shall 
be willing to answer you. And take my answer in brief thus : 
First, where the grace of God is in the heart, it causeth there 
a great outcry against sin. Secondly — 

Faith. Nay, hold ; let us consider of one at once. I think 



FAITHFUL AND TALKATIVE 77 

you should rather say it shows itself by inclining the soul to 
abhor its sin. 

Talk. Why, what difference is there between crying out 
against and abhorring of sin % 

Faith. Oh ! a great deal. A man may cry out against sin 
of policy ; but he cannot abhor it but by virtue of a godly 
antipathy against it. I have heard many cry out against sin 
in the pulpit, who can yet abide it well enough in the heart, 
house, and conversation. Joseph's mistress cried out with a 
loud voice, as if she had been very holy ; but she would will- 
ingly, notwithstanding that, have committed uncleanness with 
him. Some cry out against sin even as the mother cries out 
against her child in her lap, when she calleth it slut and 
naughty girl, and then falls to hugging and kissing it. 

Talk. You lie at the catch, I perceive. 

Faith. No, not I ; I am only for setting things right. But 
what is the second thing whereby you would prove a discovery 
of a work of grace in the heart 1 

Talk. Great knowledge of gospel mysteries. 

Faith. This sign should have been first ; but, first or last, 
it is also false, for knowledge, great knowledge, may be ob- 
tained in the mysteries of the Gospel, and yet no work of grace 
in the soul. Yea, if a man have all knowledge, he may yet be 
nothing, and so, consequently, be no child of God. When 
Christ said, " Do you know all these things ? " and the disciples 
had answered yes, he added, "Blessed are ye if ye do them." 
He doth not lay the blessing in the knowing of them, but in 
the doing of them. For there is a knowledge that is not at- 
tended with doing ; " He that knoweth his Master's will, and 
doeth it not." A man may know like an angel, and yet be no 
Christian. Therefore your sign of it is not true. Indeed, to 
know is a thing that pleaseth talkers and boasters ; but to do, 
is that which pleaseth God. Not that the heart can be good 
without knowledge; for without that the heart is naught. 
There is therefore knowledge and knowledge — knowledge that 
resteth in the bare speculation of things, and knowledge that 
is accompanied with the grace of faith and love, which puts a 



. 78 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

man upon doing even the will of God from the heart. The 
first of these will serve the talker ; but without the other the 
true Christian is not content. " Give me understanding, and 
I shall keep thy law; yea, I shall observe it with my whole 
heart." 

Talk. You lie at the catch again. This is not for edi- 
fication. 

Faith. Well, if you please, propound another sign how this 
work of grace cliscovereth itself where it is. 

Talk. Not I, for I see we shall not agree. 

Faith. Well, if you will not, will you give me leave to 
doit? 

Talk. You may use your liberty. 

Faith. A work of grace in the soul discovereth itself either 
to him that hath it or to standers-by. To him that hath it 
thus : it gives him conviction of sin, especially of the defile- 
ment of his nature, and the sin of unbelief, for the sake of 
which he is sure to be damned, if he findeth not mercy at 
God's hand by faith in Jesus Christ. This sight and sense 
of things worketh in him sorrow and shame for sin. He 
findeth, moreover, revealed in him the Saviour of the world, 
and the absolute necessity of closing with him for life ; at the 
which he findeth hungrings and thirstings after him, to which 
hungrings, etc., the promise is made. Now according to the 
strength or weakness of his faith in his Saviour so is his joy 
and peace, so is his love to holiness, so are his desires to know 
him more, and also to serve him in this world. But though, I 
say, it discovereth itself thus unto him, yet it is but seldom that 
he is able to conclude that this is a work of grace, because 
his corruptions now, and his abused reason make his mind to 
misjudge in this matter. Therefore in him that hath this 
work there is required a very sound judgment, before he can 
with steadiness conclude that this is a work of grace. 

To others it is thus discovered : 1. by an experimental 
confession of his faith in Christ ; 2. by a life answerable to 
that confession; to wit, a life of holiness — heart-holiness, 
family-holiness (if he hath a family), and by conversation- 



FAITHFUL AND TALKATIVE 79 

holiness in the world ; which in the general teacheth him in- 
wardly to abhor his sin, and himself for that, in secret, to 
suppress it in his family, and to promote holiness in the 
world, not by talk only, as a hypocrite or talkative person 
may do, but by a practical subjection in faith and love to the 
power of the word. And now, sir, as to this brief description 
of the work of grace, and also the discovery of it, if you have 
aught to object, object ; if not, then give me leave to pro- 
pound to you a second question. 

Talk. Nay, my part is not now to object, but to hear : Let 
me, therefore, have your second question. 

Faith. It is this : Do you experience the first part of this 
description of it ; and doth your life and conversation testify 
the same 1 Or standeth your religion in word or in tongue, 
and not in deed and truth ? Pray, if you incline to answer 
me in this, say no more than you know the God above will 
say Amen to, and also nothing but what your conscience can 
justify you in ; for not he that commendeth himself is approved, 
but whom the Lord commendeth. Besides, to say I am thus 
and thus, when my conversation and all my neighbors tell me 
I lie, is great wickedness. 

Then Talkative at first began to blush ; but, recovering him- 
self, thus he replied : You come now to experience, to con- 
science, and God, and to appeal to him for justification of 
what is spoken. This kind of discourse I did not expect ; nor 
am I disposed to give an answer to such questions, because I 
count not myself bound thereto, unless you take upon you to 
be a catechizer ; and though you should so do, yet I may 
refuse to make you my judge. But, I pray, will you tell me 
why you ask me such questions ? 

Faith. Because I saw you forward to talk, and because I 
knew not that you had aught else but notion. Besides, to tell 
you all the truth, I have heard of you that you are a man 
whose religion lies in talk, and that your conversation gives 
this your mouth-profession the lie. They say you are a spot 
among Christians, and that religion fareth the worse for your 
ungodly conversation ; that some already have stumbled at your 



80 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

wicked ways, and that more are in danger of being destroyed 
thereby. Your religion and an ale-house and covetousness and 
uncleanness and swearing and lying and vain company-keeping, 
etc., will stand together. The proverb is true of you which is 
said of a whore, to wit, that she is a shame to all women. So 
are you a shame to all professors. 

Talk. Since you are so ready to take up reports, and to 
judge so rashly as you do, I cannot but conclude you are some 
peevish or melancholy man, not fit to be discoursed with ; and 
so adieu. 

Then up came Christian, and said to his brother, I told you 
how it would happen. Your words and his lusts could not 
agree. He had rather leave your company than reform his 
life. But he is gone, as I said. Let him go ; the loss is no 
man's but his own. He has saved us the trouble of going 
from him ; for he continuing, as I suppose he will do, as he is, 
he would have been but a blot in our company. Besides, the 
apostle says, "From such withdraw thyself." 

Faith. But I am glad we had this little discourse with 
him. It may happen that he will think of it again. How- 
ever, I have dealt plainly with him, and so am clear of his 
blood if he perisheth. 

Chr. You did well to talk so plainly to him as you did. 
There is but little of this faithful dealing with men nowa- 
days, and that makes religion to stink so in the nostrils of 
many as it doth ; for they are these talkative fools, whose 
religion is only in word, and are debauched and vain in their 
conversation, that, being so much admitted into the fellow- 
ship of the godly, do puzzle the world, blemish Christianity, 
and grieve the sincere. I wish that all men would deal with 
such as you have done. Then should they either be made 
more conformable to religion, or the company of saints would 
be too hot for them. Then did Faithful say, 

" How Talkative at first lifts up his plumes ! 
How bravely doth he speak ! How he presumes 
To drive down all before him ! But so soon 
As Faithful talks of heart-work, like the moon 



EVANGELIST RETURNS 81 

That 's past the full, into the wane he goes ; 
And so will all but he that heart-work knows." 

Thus they went on, talking of what they had seen by the 
way, and so made that way easy, which would otherwise no 
doubt have been tedious to them ; for now they went through 
a wilderness. 

Now when they were got almost quite out of this wilderness, 
Faithful chanced to cast his eye back, and espied one coming 
after them, and he knew him. Oh ! said Faithful to his brother, 
who comes yonder 1 ? Then Christian looked, and said, It is 
my good friend Evangelist. Aye, and my good friend too, 
said Faithful, for 't was he that set me the way to the gate. 
Now was Evangelist come up unto them, and thus saluted 
them. 

Evan. Peace be with you, dearly beloved; and peace be 
to your helpers. 

Crnt. "Welcome ! welcome ! my good Evangelist. The sight 
of thy countenance brings to my remembrance thy ancient 
kindness and unwearied laboring for my eternal good. 

Faith. And a thousand times welcome, said good Faithful, 
thy company, sweet Evangelist. How desirable is it to us 
poor pilgrims ! 

Evan. Then said Evangelist, How hath it fared with you, 
my friends, since the time of our last parting % What have 
you met with, and how have you behaved yourselves 1 

Then Christian and Faithful told him of all things that 
had happened to them in the way, and how, and with what 
difficulty, they had arrived to that place. 

Right glad am I, said Evangelist, not that you have met 
with trials, but that you have been victors, and for that you 
have, notwithstanding many weaknesses, continued in the way 
to this very day. I say, right glad am I of this thing, and 
that for mine own sake and yours. I have sowed, and you 
have reaped ; and the day is coming when both he that sowed 
and they that reaped shall rejoice together; that is, if you 
hold out ; for in due time ye shall reap, if you faint not. 

6 



82 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

The crown is before you ; and it is an incorruptible one. So 
run that you may obtain it. Some there be that set out for 
this crown, and after they have gone far for it, another comes 
in and takes it from them. Hold fast, therefore, that you 
have. Let no man take your crown. You are not yet out of 
the gunshot of the devil. You. have not resisted unto blood, 
striving against sin. Let the kingdom be always before you, 
and believe steadfastly concerning the things that are in- 
visible. Let nothing that is on this side the other world get 
within you. And, above all, look well to your own hearts 
and to the lusts thereof; for they are deceitful above all 
things, and desperately wicked. Set your faces like a flint. 
You have all power in heaven and earth on your side. 

Chr. Then Christian thanked him for his exhortation, but 
told him withal that they would have him speak farther to 
them for their help the rest of the way, and the rather for 
that they well knew that he was a prophet, and could tell 
them of things that might happen unto them, and also how 
they might resist and overcome them. To which request 
Faithful also consented. So Evangelist began as followeth. 

Evan. My sons, you have heard in the word of the truth 
of the Gospel that you must through many tribulations enter 
into the kingdom of heaven, and again that in every city 
bonds and afflictions abide you ; and therefore you cannot ex- 
pect that you should go long on your pilgrimage without 
them, in some sort or other. You have found something of 
the truth of these testimonies upon you already, and more 
will immediately follow ; for now, as you see, you are almost 
out of this wilderness, and therefore you will soon come into 
a town that you will by and by see before you ; and in that 
town you will be hardly beset with enemies, who will strain 
hard but they will kill you ; and be you sure that one or both 
of you must seal the testimony which you hold, with blood ; 
but be you faithful unto death, and the King will give you a 
crown of life. He that shall die there, although his death 
will be unnatural, and his pain, perhaps, great, he will yet 
have the better of his fellow, not only because he will be ar- 



VANITY FAIR S3 

rived at the Celestial City soonest, but because he will escape 
many miseries that the other will meet with in the rest of his 
journey. But when you are come to the town, and shall find 
fulfilled what I have here related, then remember your friend, 
and quit yourselves like men, and commit the keeping of 
your souls to God in well-doing, as unto a faithful Creator. 

Then I saw in my dream that when they were got out of 
the wilderness they presently saw a town before them, and the 
name of that town is Vanity ; and at the town there is a fair 
kept, called Vanity Fair. It is kept all the year long. It 
beareth the name of Vanity Fair because the town where 't is 
kept is lighter than vanity, and also because all that is there 
sold, or that cometh thither, is vanity, as is the saying of the 
wise, All that cometh is vanity. 

This fair is no new erected business, but a thing of ancient 
standing. I will show you the original of it. Almost five 
thousand years agone, there were pilgrims walking to the 
Celestial City, as these two honest persons are ; and Beel- 
zebub, Apollyon, and Legion, with their companions, perceiv- 
ing by the path that the pilgrims made that their way to 
the city lay through this town of Vanity, they contrived here 
to set up a fair, — a fair wherein should be sold all sorts of 
vanity, and that it should last all the year long. Therefore 
at this fair are all such merchandise sold as houses, lands, 
trades, places, honors, preferments, titles, countries, kingdoms, 
lusts, pleasures ; and delights of all sorts, as whores, bawds, 
wives, husbands, children, masters, servants, lives, blood, 
bodies, souls, silver, gold, pearls, precious stones, and what not. 
And moreover, at this fair there is at all times to be seen jug- 
glings, cheats, games, plays, fools, apes, knaves, and rogues, 
and that of every kind. Here are to be seen, too, and that for 
nothing, thefts, murders, adulteries, false-swearers, and that of 
a blood-red color. And, as in other fairs of less moment there 
are the several rows and streets under their proper names, 
where such and such wares are vended, so here likewise you 
have the proper places, rows, streets (viz, countries and king- 
doms) where the wares of this fair are soonest to be found. 



84 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Here is the Britain Row, the French Row, the Italian Row, the 
Spanish Row, the German Row, where several sorts of vanities 
are to be sold. But, as in other fairs some one commodity is 
as the chief of all the fair, so the ware of Rome and her 
merchandise is greatly promoted in this fair ; only our English 
nation, with some others, have taken a dislike thereat. 

Now, as I said, the way to the Celestial City lies just through 
this town where this lusty fair is kept ; and he that would go 
to the city and yet not go through this town must needs go 
out of the world. The Prince of princes himself, when here, 
went through this town to his own country, and that upon a 
fair- day too. Yea, and, as I think, it was Beelzebub, the chief 
lord of this fair, that invited him to buy of his vanities, yea, 
would have made him lord of the fair, would he but have done 
him reverence as he went through the town. Yea, because he 
was such a person of honor, Beelzebub had him from street to 
street, and showed him all the kingdoms of the world in a little 
time, that he might, if possible, allure that Blessed One to 
cheapen and buy some of his vanities ; but he had no mind to 
the merchandise, and therefore left the town without laying 
out so much as one farthing upon these vanities. This fair, 
therefore, is an ancient thing, of long standing, and a very 
great fair. 

Now these pilgrims, as I said, must needs go through this 
fair. Well, so they did ; but, behold, even as they entred 
into the fair, all the people in the fair were moved, and the 
town itself, as it were, in a hubbub about them, and that for 
several reasons. For, first, the pilgrims were clothed with such 
kind of raiment as was diverse from the raiment of any that 
traded in that fair. The people, therefore, of the fair made a 
great gazing upon them. Some said they were fools ; some, 
they were bedlams ; and some, they were outlandish men. 
Secondly, and as they wondred at their apparel, so they did 
likewise at their speech ; for few could understand what they 
said. They naturally spoke the language of Canaan ; but they 
that kept the fair were the men of this world. So that from 
one end of the fair to the other, they seemed barbarians each 



HUBBUB IN THE FAIR 85 

to the other. Thirdly, but that which did not a little amuse 
the merchandisers was that these pilgrims set very light by all 
their wares. They cared not so much as to look upon them ; 
and if they called upon them to buy, they would put their 
fingers in their ears, and cry, Turn away mine eyes from be- 
holding vanity, and look upward, signifying that their trade 
and traffic was in heaven. One chanced, mockingly, behold- 
ing the carriages of the men, to say unto them, " What will 
ye buy 1 " But they, looking gravely upon him, said, We buy 
the truth. At that there was an occasion taken to despise 
the men the more, some mocking, some taunting, some speak- 
ing reproachfully, and some calling upon others to smite 
them. At last things came to an hubbub and great stir in the 
fair, insomuch that all order was confounded. 

Now was word presently brought to the great one of the fair, 
who quickly came down, and deputed some of his most trusty 
friends to take those men into examination about whom the 
fair was almost overturned. So the men were brought to 
examination ; and they that sat upon them asked them whence 
they came, whither they went, and what they did there in 
such an unusual garb. The men told them that they were 
pilgrims and strangers in the world, and that they were going 
to their own country, which was the heavenly Jerusalem, and 
that they had given no occasion to the men of the town, nor 
yet to the merchandisers, thus to abuse them, and to let them 
in their journey, except it was for that, when one asked them 
what they would buy, they said they would buy the truth. 
But they that were appointed to examine them did not believe 
them to be any other than bedlams and mad, or else such as 
came to put all things into a confusion in the fair. Therefore 
they took them and beat them, and besmeared them with dirt, 
and then put them into the cage, that they might be made a 
spectacle to all the men of the fair. There, therefore, they 
lay for some time, and were made the objects of any man's 
sport, or malice, or revenge, the great one of the fair laughing 
still at all that befell them. 

But the men being patient, and not rendering railing for 



86 'THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

railing, but contrariwise blessing, and giving good words for 
bad, and kindness for injuries done, some men in the fair that 
were more observing and less prejudiced than the rest began 
to check and blame the baser sort for their continual abuses 
done by them to the men. They, therefore, in an angry 
manner let fly at them again, counting them as bad as the 
men in the cage, and telling them that they seemed confed- 
erates, and should be made partakers of their misfortunes. 
The other replied that, for aught they could see, the men were 
quiet and sober, and intended nobody any harm ; and that 
there were many that traded in their fair that were more 
worthy to be put into the cage, yea, and pillory too, than were 
the men that they had abused. Thus, after divers words had 
passed on both sides, the men behaving themselves all the 
while very wisely and soberly before them, they fell to some 
blows among themselves, and did harm one to another. 

Then were these two poor men brought before their ex- 
aminers again, and there charged as being guilty of the late 
hubbub that had been in the fair. So they beat them pitifully, 
and hanged irons upon them, and led them in chains up and 
down the fair, for an example and terror to others, lest any 
should speak in their behalf, or join themselves unto them. 
But Christian and Faithful behaved themselves yet more 
wisely, and received the ignominy and shame that was cast 
upon them with so much meekness and patience that it won 
to their side, though but few in comparison of the rest, several 
of the men in the fair. This put the other party yet into 
a greater rage, insomuch that they concluded the death of 
these two men. Wherefore they threatned that neither cage 
nor irons should serve their turn, but that they should die for 
the abuse they had done, and for deluding the men of the fair. 

Then were they remanded to the cage again, until further 
order should be taken with them. So they put them in, and 
made their feet fast in the stocks. Here, therefore, they 
called again to mind what they had heard from their faithful 
friend Evangelist, and were the more confirmed in their way 
and sufferings by what he told them would happen to them. 



FAITHFUL'S TRIAL 87 

They also now comforted each other, that whose lot it was to 
suffer, even he should have the Best on 't. Therefore each 
man secretly wished that he might have that preferment. 
But committing themselves to the all-wise dispose of Him 
that ruleth all things, with much content they abode in the 
condition in which they were, until they should be otherwise 
disposed of. 

Then, a convenient time being appointed, they brought them 
forth to their trial, in order to their condemnation. When 
the time was come, they were brought before their enemies 
and arraigned. The judge's name was Lord Hate-good. 
Their indictment was one and the same in substance, though 
somewhat varying in form ; the contents whereof was this : 
that they were enemies to, and disturbers of, their trade ; that 
they had made commotions and divisions in the town, and had 
won a party to their own most dangerous opinions, in contempt 
of the law of their prince. 

Then Faithful began to answer that he had only set himself 
against that which had set itself against Him that is higher 
than the highest. And, said he, as for disturbance, I make 
none, being myself a man of peace. The parties that were 
won to us were won by beholding our truth and innocence ; 
and they are only turned from the worse to the better. And 
as to the king you talk of, since he is Beelzebub, the enemy of 
our Lord, I defy him and all his angels. 

Then proclamation was made that they that had aught to say 
for their lord the king against the prisoner at the bar should 
forthwith appear, and give in their evidence. So there came 
in three witnesses, to wit, Envy, Superstition, and Pickthank. 
They were then asked if they knew the prisoner at the bar, 
and what they had to say for their lord the king against him. 

Then stood forth Envy, and said to this effect : My lord, I 
have known this man a long time, and will attest upon my 
oath before this honorable bench, that he is — 

Judge. Hold ; give him his oath. 

So they sware him. Then he said, My lord, this man, not- 
withstanding his plausible name, is one of the vilest men in 



88 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

our country. He neither regardeth prince nor people, law 
nor custom, but doth all that he can to possess all men with 
certain of his disloyal notions, which he in the general calls 
principles of faith and holiness. And in particular I heard 
him once myself affirm that Christianity and the customs of 
our town of Vanity were diametrically opposite, and could not 
be reconciled. By which saying, my lord, he doth at once 
not only condemn all our laudable doings, but us in the doing 
of them. 

Then did the judge say to him, Hast thou any more to say 1 

Envy. My lord, I could say much more ; only I would not 
be tedious to the court. Yet if need be, when the other gen- 
tlemen have given in their evidence, rather than anything 
shall be wanting that will despatch him, I will enlarge my tes- 
timony against him. So he was bid stand by. 

Then they called Superstition, and bid him look upon the 
prisoner. They also asked what he could say for their lord 
the king against him. Then they sware him. So he began. 

Super. My lord, I have no great acquaintance with this 
man ; nor do I desire to have further knowledge of him. 
However, this I know, that he is a very pestilent fellow, from 
some discourse that the other day I had with him in this 
town ; for then, talking with him, I heard him say that our 
religion was naught, and such by which a man could by no 
means please God. Which saying of his, my lord, your lord- 
ship very well knows what necessarily thence will follow, to 
wit, that we still do worship in vain, are yet in our sins, and 
finally shall be damned ; and this is that which 1 have to say. 

Then was Pickthank sworn, and bid say what he knew in the 
behalf of their lord the king against the prisoner at the bar. 

Pick. My lord, and you gentlemen all, this fellow I have 
known of a long time, and have heard him speak things that 
ought not to be spoke ; for he hath railed on our noble prince 
Beelzebub, and hath spoke contemptibly of his honorable 
friends, whose names are the Lord Old Man, the Lord Carnal 
Delight, the Lord Luxurious, the Lord Desire of Vain Glory, 
my old Lord Lechery, Sir Having Greedy, with all the rest of 



FAITHFUL'S DEFENCE 89 

our nobility ; and he hath said, moreover, that if all men were 
of his mind, if possible, there is not one of these noblemen 
should have any longer a being in this town. Besides, he 
hath not been afraid to rail on you, my lord, who are now ap- 
pointed to be his judge, calling you an ungodly villain, with 
many other such like vilifying terms, with which he hath be- 
spattered most of the gentry of our town. 

When this Pickthank had told his tale, the judge directed 
his speech to the prisoner at the bar, saying, Thou runagate, 
heretic, and traitor, hast thou heard what these honest gentle- 
men have witnessed against thee 1 

Faith. May I speak a few words in my own defence ? 

Judge. Sirrah, sirrah, thou deservest to live no longer, but 
to be slain immediately upon the place ; yet, that all men 
may see our gentleness towards thee, let us hear what thou, 
vile runagate, hast to say. 

Faith. 1. I say, then, in answer to what Mr. Envy hath 
spoken, I never said aught but this, that what rule, or laws, or 
custom, or people, were flat against the word of God, are dia- 
metrically opposite to Christianity. If I have said amiss in 
this, convince me of my error, and I am ready here before you 
to make my recantation. 

2. As to the second, to wit, Mr. Superstition, and his 
charge against me, I said only this, that in the worship of God 
there is required a divine faith ; but there can be no divine 
faith without a divine revelation of the will of God. There- 
fore whatever is thrust into the worship of God that is not 
agreeable to divine revelation cannot be done but by an 
human faith, which faith will not be profitable to eternal life. 

3. As to what Mr. Pickthank hath said, I say (avoiding 
terms, as that I am said to rail, and the like), that the prince 
of this town, with all the rabblement his attendants by this 
gentleman named, are more fit for being in hell than in this 
town and country. And so the Lord have mercy upon me. 

Then the judge called to the jury, who all this while stood 
by to hear and observe : Gentlemen of the jury, you see this 
man about whom so great an uproar hath been made in this 



90 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

town. You have also heard what these worthy gentlemen 
have witnessed against him. Also, you have heard his reply 
and confession. It lieth now in your breasts to hang him, 
or save his life ; but yet I think meet to instruct you into our 
law. 

There was an act made in the days of Pharaoh the Great, 
servant to our prince, that, lest those of a contrary religion 
should multiply and grow too strong for him, their males 
should be thrown into the river. There was also an act made 
in the days of Nebuchadnezzar the Great, another of his 
servants, that whoever would not fall down and worship his 
golden image, should be thrown into a fiery furnace. There 
was also an act made in the days of Darius, that whoso for 
some time called upon any god but him should be cast into 
the lions' den. Now the substance of these laws this rebel 
has broken, not only in thought, — which is not to be borne, 
but also in word and deed, — which must, therefore, needs be 
intolerable. For that of Pharaoh, his law was made upon a 
supposition to prevent mischief, no crime being yet apparent ; 
but here is a crime apparent. For the second and third, you 
see he disputeth against our religion ; and for the treason he 
hath confessed he deserveth to die the death. 

Then went the jury out, whose names were Mr. Blindman, 
Mr. No-good, Mr. Malice, Mr. Love-lust, Mr. Live-loose, Mr. 
Heady, Mr. High-mind, Mr. Enmity, Mr. Liar, Mr. Cruelty, 
Mr. Hate -light, and Mr. Implacable, who every one gave in 
his private verdict against him among themselves, and after- 
wards unanimously concluded to bring him in guilty before 
the judge. And first among themselves, Mr. Blindman, the 
foreman, said, I see clearly that this man is an heretic. Then 
said Mr. No-good, Away with such a fellow from the earth. 
Aye, said Mr. Malice, for I hate the very looks of him. Then 
said Mr. Love-lust, I could never endure him. Nor I, said 
Mr. Live-loose, for he would always be condemning my way. 
Hang him, hang him, said Mr. Heady. A sorry scrub, said 
Mr. High-mind. My heart riseth against him, said Mr. En- 
mity. He is a rogue, said Mr. Liar. Hanging is too good 



FAITHFUL'S MARTYRDOM 91 

for him, said Mr. Cruelty. Let us despatch him out of the 
way, said Mr. Hate-light. Then said Mr. Implacable, Might 
I have all the world given me, I could not be reconciled to 
him. Therefore let us forthwith bring him in guilty of death. 
And so they did. Therefore he was presently condemned to 
be had from the place where he was to the place from whence 
he came, and there to be put to the most cruel death that 
could be invented. 

They therefore brought him out, to do with him according 
to their law ; and first they scourged him, then they buffeted 
him, then they lanced his flesh with knives ; after that they 
stoned him with stones, then prickt him with their swords \ 
and last of all, they burned him to ashes at the stake. Thus 
came Faithful to his end. Now I saw that there stood behind 
the multitude a chariot and a couple of horses waiting for 
Faithful, who, so soon as his adversaries had despatched him, 
was taken up into it, and straightway was carried up through 
the clouds with sound of trumpet, the nearest way to the 
celestial gate. 

But as for Christian, he had some respite, and was remanded 
back to prison. So he there remained for a space. But He 
who overrules all things, having the power of their rage in his 
own hand, so wrought it about that Christian for that time 
escaped them, and went his way. 

And as he went, he sang, saying, 

"Well, Faithful, thou hast faithfully profest 
Unto thy Lord, with whom thou shalt be blest, 
When faithless ones, with all their vain delights, 
Are crying out under their hellish plights. 
Sing, Faithful, sing, and let thy name survive ; 
For though they killed thee, thou art yet alive." 

Now I saw in my dream that Christian went not forth alone ; 
for there was one whose name was Hopeful, being so made by 
the beholding of Christian and Faithful in their words and 
behavior, in their sufferings at the fair, who joined himself 
unto him, and entering into a brotherly covenant, told him 



92 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

that he would be his companion. Thus one died to bear tes- 
timony to the truth, and another rises out of his ashes to be 
a companion with Christian in his pilgrimage. This Hopeful 
also told Christian that there were many more of the men 
in the fair that would take their time and follow after. 

So I saw that quickly after they were got out of the fair 
they overtook one that was going before them, whose name 
was By-ends. So they said to him, "What countryman, sir ? 
and how far go you this way ? He told them that he came 
from the town of Fair-speech and he was going to the Celestial 
City, but told them not his name. 

From Fair-speech 1 said Christian ; is there any good that 
lives there ? 

By. Yes, said By-ends, I hope. 

Chr. Pray, sir, what may I call you 1 said Christian. 

By. I am a stranger to you, and you to me. If you be 
going this way, I shall be glad of your company; if not, I 
must be content. 

Chr. This town of Fair-speech, said Christian, I have heard 
of; and, as I remember, they say it's a wealthy place. 

By. Yes, I will assure you that it is ;- and I have very many 
rich kindred there. 

Chr. Pray, who are your kindred there, if a man may be 
so bold 1 

By. Almost the whole town; and in particular my Lord 
Turn-about, my Lord Time-server, my Lord Fair-speech, from 
whose ancestors that town first took its name ; also Mr. 
Smooth-man, Mr. Facing-both-ways, Mr. Any-thing. And the 
parson of our parish, Mr. Two-tongues, was my mother's own 
brother, by father's side ; and, to tell you the truth, I am be- 
come a gentleman of good quality ; yet my great-grandfather 
was but a waterman, looking one way and rowing another, 
and I got most of my estate by the same occupation. 

Chr. Are you a married man 1 

By. Yes, and my wife is a very virtuous woman, the daughter 
of a virtuous woman. She was my Lady Feigning's daughter. 
Therefore she came of a very honorable family, and is arrived 



DISCOURSE WITH BY-ENDS 93 

to such a pitch of breeding that she knows how to carry it 
to all, even to prince and peasant. 'T is true, we somewhat 
differ in religion from those of the stricter sort, yet but in 
two small points : first, we never strive against wind and tide ; 
secondly, we are always most zealous when Religion goes in 
his silver slippers. We love much to walk with him in the 
street, if the sun shines and the people applaud him. 

Then Christian stept a little aside to his fellow Hopeful, 
saying, it runs in my mind that this is one By-ends, of Fair- 
speech ; and if it be he, we have as very a knave in our com- 
pany as dwelleth in all these parts. Then said Hopeful, Ask 
him ; methinks he should not be ashamed of his name. So 
Christian came up with him again, and said, Sir, you talk as 
if you knew something more than all the world doth ; and, if 
I take not my mark amiss, I deem I have half a guess of you. 
Is not your name Mr. By-ends, of Fair-speech ? 

By. This is not my name ; but indeed it is a nickname that 
is given me by some that cannot abide me, and I must be con- 
tent to bear it as a reproach, as other good men have borne 
theirs before me. 

Chr. But did you never give an occasion to men to call 
you by this name 1 

By. Never, never ! The worst that ever I did to give them 
an occasion to give me this name was that I had always the 
luck to jump in my judgment with the present way of the 
times, whatever it was ; and my chance was to get thereby. 
But if things are thus cast upon me, let me count them a 
blessing ; but let not the malicious load me therefore with 
reproach. 

Chr. I thought, indeed, that you were the man that I 
heard of ; and, to tell you what I think, I fear this name be- 
longs to you more properly than you are willing we should 
think it doth. 

By. Well, if you will thus imagine, I cannot help it You 
shall find me a fair company-keeper, if you will still admit me 
your associate. 

Chr. If you will go with us, you must go against wind and 



94 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

tide ; the which, I perceive, is against your opinion. You 
must also own Religion in his rags, as well as when in his 
silver slippers, and stand by him, too, when bound in irons, 
as well as when he walketh the streets with applause. 

By. You must not impose, nor lord it over my faith. Leave 
me to my liberty, and let me go with you. 

Chr. Not a step further, unless you will do, in what I pro- 
pound, as we. 

Then said By-ends, I shall never desert my old principles, 
since they are harmless and profitable. If I may not go with 
you, I must do as I did before you overtook me, even go by 
myself, until some overtake me that will be glad of my 
company. 

Now I saw in my dream, that Christian and Hopeful for- 
sook him, and kept their distance before him ; but one of 
them, looking back, saw three men following Mr. By-ends ; 
and, behold, as they came up with him, he made them a very 
low congee, and they also gave him a compliment. The men's 
names were Mr. Hold-the-world, Mr. Money-love, and Mr. 
Save-all, men that Mr. By-ends had formerly been acquainted 
with ; for in their minority they were school-fellows, and were 
taught by one Mr. Gripeman, a schoolmaster in Lovegain, which 
is a market-town in the county of Coveting, in the North. 
This schoolmaster taught them the art of getting, either by 
violence, cozenage, flattering, lying, or by patting on a guise of 
religion ; and these four gentlemen had attained much of the 
art of their master, so that they could each of them have kept 
such a school themselves. 

"Well, when they had, as I said, thus saluted each other, 
Mr. Money-love said to Mr. By-ends, Who are they upon the 
road before us 1 for Christian and Hopeful were yet within 
view. 

By. They are a couple of far-countrymen, that, after their 
mode, are going on pilgrimage. 

Money. Alas ! why did they not stay, that we might have 
had their good company 1 for they, and we, and you, sir, I 
hope, are all going on a pilgrimage. 



BY-ENDS' COMPANIONS 95 

By. We are so, indeed ; but the men before us are so rigid, 
and love so much their own notions, and do also so lightly 
esteem the opinions of others, that let a man be ever so godly, 
yet if he jumps not with them in all things, they thrust him 
quite out of their company. 

Save. That is bad ; but we read of some that are righteous 
overmuch, and such men's rigidness prevails with them to 
judge and condemn all but themselves. But, I pray, what, 
and how many, were the things wherein you differed ? 

By. Why they, after their headstrong manner, conclude 
that it is their duty to rush on their journey all weathers ; and 
I am for waiting for wind and tide. They are for hazarding 
all for God at a clap ; and I am for taking all advantages to 
secure my life and estate. They are for holding their notions, 
though all other men be against them ; but I am for religion 
in what, and so far as the times and my safety will bear it. 
They are for religion when in rags and contempt ; but I am 
for him when he walks in his golden slippers, in the sunshine, 
and with applause. 

Hold-the-World. Aye, and hold you there still, good 
Mr. By-ends ; for, for my part, I can count him but a fool that, 
having the liberty to keep what he has, shall be so unwise to 
lose it. Let us be wise as serpents. 'T is best to make hay 
when the sun shines. You see how the bee lieth still all win- 
ter, and bestirs her only when she can have profit with pleasure. 
God sends sometimes rain, and sometimes sunshine. If they 
be such fools to go through the first, yet let us be content to 
take fair weather along with us. For my part, I like that 
religion best that will stand with the security of God's good 
blessings unto us ; for who can imagine, that is ruled by his 
reason, since God has bestowed upon us the good things of 
this life, but that he would have us keep them for his sake ? 
Abraham and Solomon grew rich in religion ; and Job says that 
a good man shall lay up gold as dust ; but he must not be such 
as the men before us, if they be as you have described them. 

Save. I think that we are all agreed in this matter ; and 
therefore there needs no more words about it. 



96 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Money. No, there needs no more words about this matter, 
indeed ; for he that believes neither Scripture nor reason (and 
you see we have both on our side) neither knows his own 
liberty nor seeks his own safety. 

By. My brethren, we are, as you see, going all on pilgrimage ; 
and for our better diversion from things that are bad, give me 
leave to propound unto you this question. Suppose a man, a 
minister, or a tradesman, etc., should have an advantage lie 
before him to get the good blessings of this life, yet so as that 
he can by no means come by them except, in appearance 
at least, he becomes extraordinary zealous in some points 
of religion that he meddled not with before. May he not 
use this means to attain his end, and yet be a right honest 
man ? 

Money. I see the bottom of your question ; and with these 
gentlemen's good leave, I will endeavor to shape you an 
answer. And first, to speak to your question as it concerneth 
a minister himself, suppose a minister, a worthy man, pos- 
sessed but of a very small benefice, and has in his eye a greater, 
more fat and plump by far. He has also now an opportunity 
of getting of it, yet so as by being more studious, by preach- 
ing more frequently and zealously, and, because the temper of 
the people requires it, by altering of some of his principles. 
For my part, I see no reason but a man may do this, provided 
he has a call, aye, and more a great deal besides, and yet be 
an honest man. For why ? 

1. His desire of a greater benefice is lawful (this cannot be 
contradicted), since 'tis set before him by Providence. So 
then he may get it if he can, making no question for con- 
science' sake. 

2. Besides, his desire after that benefice makes him more 
studious, a more zealous preacher, etc., and so makes him a 
better man, yea, makes him better improve his parts, which 
is according to the mind of God. 

3. Now, as for his complying with the temper of his people, 
by dissenting, to serve them, some of his principles, this 
argueth : (1.) that he is of a self-denying temper ; (2.) of a 



BY-ENDS' COMPANIONS 97 

sweet and winning deportment; and (3.) so more fit for the 
ministerial function. 

4. I conclude, then, that a minister that changes a small 
for a great should not, for so doing, be judged as covetous ; 
but rather, since he is improved in his parts and industry 
thereby, be counted as one that pursues his call and the op- 
portunity put into his hand to do good. 

And now to the second part of the question, which concerns 
the tradesman you mentioned. Suppose such an one to have 
but a poor employ in the world, but by becoming religious he 
may mend his market, perhaps get a rich wife, or more and 
far better customers to his shop ; for my part, I see no reason 
but that this may be lawfully done. For why % 

1. To become religious is a virtue, by what means soever a 
man becomes so. 

2. Nor is it unlawful to get a rich wife, or more custom to 
my shop. 

3. Besides, the man that gets these by becoming religious, 
gets that which is good of them that are good, by becoming 
good himself. So then here is a good wife, and good cus- 
tomers, and good gain, and all these by becoming religious, 
which is good. Therefore, to become religious to get all these 
is a good and profitable design. 

This answer, thus made by this Mr. Money-love to Mr. 
By-ends' question, was highly applauded by them all. Where- 
fore they- concluded, upon the whole, that it was most 
wholesome and advantageous. And because, as they thought, 
no man was able to contradict it, and because Christian and 
Hopeful was yet. within call, they jointly agreed to assault 
them with the question as soon as they overtook them, and 
the rather because they had opposed Mr. By-ends before. So 
they called after them, and they stopt and stood still till they 
came up to them ; but they concluded, as they went, that not 
Mr. By-ends, but old Mr. Hold-the-world should propound 
the question to them, because, as they supposed, their answer 
to him would be without the remainder of that heat that was 
kindled betwixt Mr. By-ends and them at their parting a little 

7 



98 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

before. So they came up to each other, and after a short 
salutation, Mr. Hold-the-world propounded the question to 
Christian and his fellow, and then bid them to answer if they 
could. 

Then said Christian, Even a babe in religion may answer 
ten thousand such questions. For if it be unlawful to follow 
Christ for loaves, as it is, how much more abominable is it to 
make of him and religion a stalking-horse to get and enjoy 
the world ! Nor do we find any other than heathens, hypo- 
crites, devils, and witches, that are of this opinion. 

1. Heathens : for when Hamor and Shechem had a mind 
to the daughter and cattle of Jacob, and saw that there was 
no ways for them to come at them but by being circumcised, 
they said to their companions, If every male of us be circum- 
cised, as they are circumcised, shall not their cattle s and their 
substance, and every beast of theirs be ours ? Their daughters 
and their cattle were that which they sought to obtain, and 
their religion the stalking-horse they made use of to come at 
them. Read the whole story. 

2. The hypocritical Pharisees were also of this religion. 
Long prayers were their pretence, but to get widows' houses 
were their intent; and greater damnation was from God 
their judgment. 

3. Judas the devil was also of this religion. He was 
religious for the bag, that he might be possessed of what was 
therein ; but he was lost, cast away, and the very son of 
perdition. 

4. Simon the witch was of this religion too ; for he would 
have had the Holy Ghost that he might have got money 
therewith ; and his sentence from Peter's mouth was ac- 
cording. 

5. Neither will it out of my mind but that that man that 
takes up religion for the world will throw away religion for 
the world ; for so surely as Judas designed the world in be- 
coming religious, so surely did he also sell religion and his 
Master for the same. To answer the question, therefore, 
affirmatively, as I perceive you have done, and to accept of, as 



DEM AS AT LUCRE HILL 99 

authentic, such answer, is both heathenish, hypocritical, and 
devilish ; and your reward will be according to your works. 

Then they stood staring one upon another, but had not 
wherewith to answer Christian. Hopeful also approved of the 
soundness of Christian's answer. So there was a great silence 
among them. Mr. By-ends and his company also staggered 
and kept behind, that Christian and Hopeful might outgo 
them. Then said Christian to his fellow, If these men cannot 
stand before the sentence of men, what will they do with the 
sentence of God 1 And if they are mute when dealt with by 
vessels of clay, what will they do when they shall be rebuked 
by the flames of a devouring fire 1 

Then Christian and Hopeful outwent them again, and went 
till they came at a delicate plain, called Ease, where they went 
with much content ; but that plain was but narrow. So they 
were quickly got over it. Now at the further side of that 
plain was a little hill, called Lucre, and in that hill a silver- 
mine, which some of them that had formerly gone that way, 
because of the rarity of it, had turned aside to see ; but going 
too near the brim of the pit, the ground, being deceitful under 
them, broke, and they were slain. Some also had been maimed 
there, and could not, to their dying day, be their own men 
again. 

Then I saw in my dream, that a little off the road, over 
against the silver-mine, stood Demas, gentleman-like, to call 
passengers to come and see ; who said to Christian and his 
fellow, Ho ! turn aside hither, and I will show you a thing. 

Chr. What thing so deserving as to turn us out of the way 
to see it 1 

Demas. Here is a silver-mine, and some digging in it for 
treasure. If you will come, with a little pains you may richly 
provide for yourselves. 

Hope. Then said Hopeful, Let us go see. 

Chr. Not I, said Christian. I have heard of this place 
before now, and how many have there been slain ; and besides, 
that treasure is a snare to those that seek it, for it hindreth 
them in their pilgrimage. 

L 



100 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Then Christian called to Demas, saying, Is not the place 
dangerous ? Hath it not hindred many in their pilgrimage 1 

Demas. Not very dangerous, except to those that are care- 
less ; but withal he blushed as he spake. 

Chr. Then said Christian to Hopeful, Let us not stir a 
step, but still keep on our way. 

Hope. I will warrant you, when By-ends comes up, if he 
hath the same invitation as we, he will turn in thither 
to see. 

Chr. No doubt thereof; for his principles lead him that 
way, and a hundred to one but he dies there. 

Demas. Then Demas called again, saying, But will you not 
come over and see ? 

Chr. Then Christian roundly answered, saying, Demas, 
thou art an enemy to the right ways of the Lord of this way, 
and hast been already condemned for thine own turning aside, 
by one of his Majesty's judges ; and why seekest thou to bring 
us into the like condemnation 1 Besides, if we at all turn 
aside, our Lord the King will certainly hear thereof, and will 
there put us to shame where we would stand with boldness 
before him. 

Demas cried again that he also was one of their fraternity ; 
and that if they would tarry a little, he also himself would 
walk with them. 

Chr. Then said Christian, What is thy name ? Is it not 
the same by the which I have called thee 1 

Demas. Yes, my name is Demas. I am the son of Abraham. 

Chr. I know you. Gehazi was your great-grandfather, and 
Judas your father ; and you have trod their steps. It is but 
a devilish prank that thoii usest. Thy father was hanged for 
a traitor ; and thou deservest no better reward. Assure thy- 
self that when we come to the King, we will do him word of 
this thy behavior. Thus they went their way. 

By this time By-ends and his companions were come again 
within sight ; and they at the first beck went over to Demas. 
Now, whether they fell into the pit by looking over the brink 
thereof, or whether they went down to dig, or whether they 



THE PILLAR OF SALT 101 

were smothered in the bottom by the damps that commonly 
arise, — of these things I am not certain ; but this I observed, 
that they never were seen again in the way. Then sang 
Christian, 

" By-ends and silver Demas both agree. 
One calls ; the other runs, that he may be 
A sharer in his lucre. So these two 
Take up in this world, and no further go." 

Now I saw that, just on the other side of this plain, the 
pilgrims came to a place where stood an old monument, hard 
by the highway-side, at the sight of which they were both 
concerned, because of the strangeness of the form thereof; 
for it seemed to them as if it had been a woman transformed 
into the shape of a pillar. Here, therefore, they stood looking 
and looking upon it, but could not for a time tell what they 
should make thereof. At last Hopeful espied, written above 
upon the head thereof, a writing in an unusual hand ; but he, 
being no scholar, called to Christian (for he was learned) to 
see if he could pick out the meaning. So he came ; and, after 
a little laying of letters together, he found the same to be this, 
"Remember Lot's wife." So he read it to his fellow; after 
which they both concluded that that was the pillar of salt 
into which Lot's wife was turned, for her looking back with 
a covetous heart when she was going from Sodom for safety. 
Which sudden and amazing sight gave them occasion for this 
discourse. 

Chr. Ah, my brother, this is a seasonable sight. It came 
opportunely to us after the invitation which Demas gave us 
to come over to view the hill Lucre ; and had we gone over, 
as he desired us, and as thou wast inclining to do, my brother, 
we had, for aught I know, been made, like this woman, a 
spectacle for those that shall come after to behold. 

Hope. I am sorry that I was so foolish, and am made to 
wonder that I am not now as Lot's wife ; for wherein was the 
difference 'twixt her sin and mine ? She only looked back ; 
and I had a desire to go see. Let grace be adored ; and let 
me be ashamed that ever such a thing should be in mine heart. 



102 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Chr. Let us take notice of what we see here, for our help 
for time to come. This woman escaped one judgment, for she 
fell not by the destruction of Sodom ; yet she was destroyed 
by another, as we see. She is turned into a pillar of salt. 

Hope. True, and she may be to us both caution and ex- 
ample ; caution, that we should shun her sin, or a sign of what 
judgment will overtake such as shall not be prevented by this 
caution. So Korah, Dathan, and Abiram, with the two hun- 
dred and fifty men that perished in their sin, did also become 
a sign or example to beware. But above all I muse at one 
thing, to wit, how Demas and his fellows can stand so confi- 
dently yonder to look for that treasure, which this woman but 
for looking behind her after (for we read not that she stept 
one foot out of the way) was turned into a pillar of salt ; 
especially since the judgment which overtook her did make 
her an example within sight of where they are ; for they can- 
not choose but see her, did they but lift up their eyes. 

, Chr. . It is a thing to be wondered at, and it argueth that 
their hearts are grown desperate in the case ; and I cannot 
tell who to compare them to so fitly as to them that pick 
pockets in the presence of the judge, or that will cut purses 
under the gallows. It is said of the men of Sodom that they 
were " sinners exceedingly," because they were sinners " before 
tiie Lord," that is, in his eyesight, and notwithstanding the 
kindnesses that he had showed them ; for the land of Sodom 
was now like the garden of Eden heretofore. This, therefore, 
provoked him the more to jealousy, and made their plague as 
hot as the fire of the Lord out of heaven could make it. And 
it is most rationally to be concluded that such, even such as 
these are, that shall sin in the sight, yea, and that too in 
despite of such examples that are set continually before them, 
to caution them to the contrary, must be partakers of severest 
judgments. 

Hope. Doubtless thou hast said the truth; but what a 
mercy is it that neither thou, but especially I, am not made 
myself this example ! This ministreth occasion to us to thank 
God, to fear before him, and always to remember Lot's wife. 



THE RIVER OF LIFE 103 

I saw then that they went on their way to a pleasant river, 
which David the king called the river of God ; but John, the 
river of the water of life. Now their way lay just upon the 
bank of the river. Here, therefore, Christian and his com- 
panion walked with great delight. They drank also of the 
water of the river, which was pleasant and enlivening to their 
weary spirits. Besides, on the banks of this river, on either 
side, were green trees that bore all manner of fruit ; and the 
leaves they eat to prevent surfeits and other diseases that are 
incident to those that heat their blood by travels. On either 
side of the river was also a meadow, curiously beautified with 
lilies ; and it was green all the year long. In this meadow 
they lay down and slept ; for here they might lie down safely. 
When they awoke they gathered again of the fruit of the 
trees, and drank again of the water of the river, and then 
lay down again to sleep. Thus they did several days and 
nights. Then they sang : 

" Behold ye how these crystal streams do glide, 
To comfort pilgrims by the highway-side. 
The meadows green, besides their fragrant smell, 
Yield dainties for them; and he that can tell 
What pleasant fruit, yea, leaves these trees do yield, 
Will soon sell all, that he may buy this field." 

So when they were disposed to go on, for they were not as 
yet at their journey's end, they eat, and drank, and departed. 

Now I beheld in my dream that they had not journeyed far 
but the river and the way for a time parted, at which they 
were not a little sorry ; yet they durst not go out of the way. 
Now the way from the river was rough, and their feet tender 
by reason of their travels. So the souls of the pilgrims were 
much discouraged because of the way. Wherefore, still as 
they went on, they wished for better way. Now a little be- 
fore them there was on the left hand of the road a meadow 
and a stile to go over into it ; and that meadow is called 
By-path meadow. Then said Christian to his fellow, If this 
meadow lieth along by our wayside, let's go over into it. 



104 THE PILGRIMS PROGRESS 

Then he went to the stile to see ; and behold a path lay along 
by the way on the other side of the fence. 'T is according to 
my wish, said Christian. Here is the easiest going. Come, 
good Hopeful, and let us go over. 

Hope. But how if this path should lead us out of the way ? 

Chr. That 's not like, said the other. Look; doth it not go 
along by the wayside 1 So Hopeful, being persuaded by his fel- 
low, went after him over the stile. When they were gone over, 
and were got into the path, they found it very easy for their 
feet ; and withal they, looking before them, espied a man 
walking as they did, and his name was Vain-Confidence. So 
they called after him, and asked him whither that way led. 
He said, To the Celestial Gate. Look, said Christian, did not 
I tell you so 1 By this you may see we are right. So they fol- 
lowed, and he went before them. But behold the night came 
on, and it grew very dark, so that they that were behind lost 
the sight of him that went before. 

He, therefore, that went before, Vain- Confidence by name, 
not seeing the way before him, fell into a deep pit, which was 
on purpose there made, by the prince of those grounds, to 
catch vain-glorious fools withal, and was dashed in pieces with 
his fall. 

Now Christian and his fellow heard him fall. So they called 
to know the matter ; but there was none to answer ; only they 
heard a groaning. Then said Hopeful, Where are we now ? 
Then was his fellow silent, as mistrusting that he had led him 
out of the way ; and now it began to rain, and thunder, and 
lighten in a very dreadful manner, and the water rose amain. 

Then Hopeful groaned in himself, saying, that I had 
kept on my way ! 

Chr. Who could have thought that this path should have 
led us us out of the way ? 

Hope. I was afraid on 't at the very first, and therefore 
gave you that gentle caution. I would have spoke plainer, 
but that you are older than I. 

Chr. Good brother, be not offended. I am sorry I have 
brought thee out of the way, and that I have put thee into 



GIANT DESPAIR 105 

such eminent danger. Pray, my brother, forgive me ; I did 
not do it of an evil intent. 

Hope. Be comforted, my brother; for I forgive thee, and 
believe, too, that this shall be for our good. 

Chr. I am glad I have with me a merciful brother. But 
we must not stand here. Let 's try to go back again. 

Hope. But, good brother, let me go before. 

Chr. No, if you please, let me go first, that if there be 
any danger, I may be first therein, because by my means we 
are both gone out of the way. 

Hope. No, said Hopeful, you shall not go first ; for your 
mind, being troubled, may lead you out of the way again. 
Then for their encouragement they heard the voice of one 
saying, " Let thine heart be towards the highway, even the 
way that thou wentest. Turn again." But by this time the 
waters were greatly risen, by reason of which the way of go- 
ing back was very dangerous. (Then I thought that it is 
easier going out of the way when we are in than going in 
when we are out.) Yet they adventured to go back; but, it 
was so dark, and the flood was so high, that in their going 
back they had like to have been drowned nine or ten times. 

Neither could they, with all the skill they had, get again to 
the stile that night. Wherefore at last, lighting under a little 
shelter, they sat down there till the day brake; but, being 
weary, they fell asleep. Now there was, not far from the place 
where they lay, a castle, called Doubting Castle, the owner 
whereof was Giant Despair ; and it was in his grounds they 
now were sleeping. Wherefore he, getting up in the morning 
early, and walking up and down in his fields, caught Christian 
and Hopeful asleep in his grounds. Then with a grim and 
surly voice he bid them awake, and asked them whence they 
were, and what they did in his grounds. They told him they 
were pilgrims, and that they had lost their way. Then said 
the giant, You have this night trespassed on me by trampling 
in and lying on my grounds ; and therefore you must go along 
with me. So they were forced to go, because he was stronger 
than they. They also had but little to say ; for they knew 



106 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

themselves in a fault. The giant, therefore, drove them be- 
fore him, and put them into his castle, into a very dark dun- 
geon, nasty and stinking to the spirits of these two men. 
Here, then, they lay from Wednesday morning till Saturday 
night, without one bit of bread or drop of drink, or light, or 
any to ask how they did. They were, therefore, here in evil 
case, and were far from friends and acquaintance. Now in 
this place Christian had double sorrow, because 't was through 
his unadvised counsel that they were brought into this 
distress. 

Now Giant Despair had a wife, and her name was Diffidence. 
So when he was gone to bed he told his wife what he had 
done, to wit, that he had taken a couple of prisoners, and 
cast them into his dungeon for trespassing on his grounds. 
Then he asked her also what he had best to do further to 
them. So she asked him what they were, whence they came, 
and whither they were bound ; and he told her. Then she 
counselled him that when he arose in the morning he should 
beat them without mercy. So when he arose he getteth him 
a grievous crab-tree cudgel, and goes down into the dungeon 
to them, and there first falls to rating of them as if they were 
dogs, although they gave him never a word of distaste. Then 
he falls upon them and beats them fearfully, in such sort that 
they were not able to help themselves, or to turn them upon 
the floor. This done, he withdraws and leaves them there to 
condole their misery, and to mourn under their distress. So 
all that day they spent the time in nothing but sighs and bit- 
ter lamentations. The next night she, talking with her hus- 
band about them further, and understanding that they were 
yet alive, did advise him to counsel them to make away them- 
selves. So when morning was come he goes to them in a 
surly manner, as before, and, perceiving them to be very sore 
with the stripes that he had given them the day before, he 
told them that since they were never like to come out of that 
place, their only way would be forthwith to make an end of 
themselves, either with knife, halter, or poison ; for why, said 
he, should you choose life, seeing it is attended with so much 



CHRISTIAN THINKS OF SUICIDE 107 

bitterness 1 But they desired him to let them go. With that 
he looked ugly upon them and, rushing to them, had doubt- 
less made an end of them himself, but that he fell into one of 
his fits (for he sometimes in sunshiny weather fell into fits), 
and lost for a time the use of his hand. Wherefore he 
withdrew, and left them as before to consider what to do. 
Then did the prisoners consult between themselves whether 
it was best to take his counsel or no ; and thus they began 
to discourse. 

Chr. Brother, said Christian, what shall we do ? The life 
that we now live is miserable. For my part, I know not 
whether is best, to live thus, or to die out of hand. My soul 
chooseth strangling rather than life ; and the grave is more 
easy for me than this dungeon. Shall we be ruled by the 
giant 1 

Hope. Indeed our present condition is dreadful, and death 
would be far more welcome to me than thus for ever to abide ; 
but yet let us consider the Lord of the country to which we 
are going hath said, " Thou shalt do no murder," no, not to 
another man's person. Much more, then, are we forbidden 
to take his counsel to kill ourselves. Besides, he that kills 
another can but commit murder upon his body ; but for one 
to kill himself is to kill body and soul at once. And more- 
over, my brother, thou talkest of ease in the grave ; but hast 
thou forgotten the hell whither for certain the murderers go 1 
for " no murderer hath eternal life," etc. And let us consider 
again that all the law is not in the hand of Giant Despair. 
Others, so far as I can understand, have been taken by him as 
well as we, and yet have escaped out of his hand. Who 
knows but that God, that made the world, may cause that 
Giant Despair may die, or that, at some time or other, he 
may forget to lock us in, or but he may, in a short time, have 
another of his fits before us, and may lose the use of his limbs ? 
And if ever that should come to pass again, for my part, I am 
resolved to pluck up the heart of a man, and to try my utmost 
to get from under his hand. I was a fool that I did not try 
to do it before. But, however, my brother, let 's be patient, 



108 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

and endure a while. The time may come that may give us a 
happy release ; but let us not be our own murderers. With 
these words Hopeful at present did moderate the mind of his 
brother. So they continued together in the dark that day, in 
their sad and doleful condition. 

Well, towards evening the giant goes down into the dun- 
geon again, to see if his prisoners had taken his counsel. 
But when he came there he found them alive ; and truly, alive 
was all ; for now, what for want of bread and water, and by 
reason of the wounds they received when he beat them, they 
could do little but breathe. But, I say, he found them alive ; 
at which he fell into a grievous rage, and told them that, see- 
ing they had disobeyed his counsel, it should be worse with 
them than if they had never been born. 

At this they trembled greatly, and I think that Christian 
fell into a swound ; but, coming a little to himself again, they 
renewed their discourse about the giant's counsel, and whether 
yet they had best take it or no. Now Christian again seemed 
for doing it ; but Hopeful made his second reply as followeth : 

Hope. My brother, said he, remembrest thou not how 
valiant thou hast been heretofore % Apollyon could not crush 
thee, nor could all that thou didst hear, or see, or feel, in the 
Valley of the Shadow of Death. What hardship, terror, and 
amazement hast thou already gone through ; and art thou 
now nothirig but fear 1 Thou seest that I am in the dungeon 
with thee, a far weaker man by nature than thou art. Also 
this giant has wounded me as well as thee, and hath also cut 
off the bread and water from my mouth ; and with thee I 
mourn without the light. But let's exercise a little more 
patience. Remember how thou playedst the man at Vanity 
Fair, and wast neither afraid of the chain nor cage, nor yet of 
bloody death. Wherefore let us, at least to avoid the shame 
that it becomes not a Christian to be found in, bear up with 
patience as well as we can. 

Now night being come again, and the giant and his wife be- 
ing in bed, she asked him concerning the prisoners, and if they 
had taken his counsel. To which he replied, They are sturdy 



PROMISE LETS THEM OUT 109 

rogues ; they choose rather to bear all hardship than to make 
away with themselves. Then said she, Take them into the 
castle -yard to-morrow, and show them the bones and skulls of 
those that thou hast already despatched, and make them be- 
lieve, ere a week comes to an end, thou also wilt tear them in 
pieces, as thou hast done their fellows before them. 

So when the morning was come, the giant goes to them 
again, and takes them into the castle-yard, and shows them as 
his wife had bidden him. These, said he, were pilgrims, as 
you are, once, and they trespassed in my grounds, as you have 
done, and when I thought fit I tore them in pieces ; and so 
within ten days I will do you. Get you down to your den 
again. And with that he beat them all the way thither. 
They lay, therefore, all day on Saturday in a lamentable case, 
as before. Now, when night was come, and when Mrs. Diffi- 
dence and her husband the giant were got to bed, they began 
to renew their discourse of their prisoners ; and withal the old 
giant wondered that he could neither by his blows nor counsel 
bring them to an end. And with that his wife replied, I fear, 
said she, that they live in hopes that some will come to re- 
lieve them, or that they have picklocks about them, by the 
means of which they hope to escape. And sayest thou so, my 
dear? said the giant. I will therefore search them in the 
morning. 

Well, on Saturday, about midnight, they began to pray, and 
continued in prayer till almost break of day. Now a little be- 
fore it was day good Christian, as one half amazed, brake out 
in this passionate speech : What a fool, quoth he, am I, thus 
to lie in a stinking dungeon, when I may as well walk at 
liberty ! I have a key in my bosom, called Promise, that will, 
I am persuaded, open any lock in Doubting Castle. Then 
said Hopeful, That 's good news. Good brother, pluck it out 
of thy bosom, and try. 

Then Christian pulled it out of his bosom, and began to try 
at the dungeon -door, whose bolt, as he turned the key, gave 
back, and the door flew open with ease, and Christian and 
Hopeful both came out. Then he went to the outward door 



HO THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

that leads into the castle-yard, and with his key opened that 
door also. After, he went to the iron gate, for that must be 
opened too ; but that lock went damnable hard ; yet the key 
did open it. Then they thrust open the gate to make their 
escape with speed ; but that gate, as it opened, made such a 
creaking that it waked Giant Despair, who hastily rising to 
pursue his prisoners, felt his limbs to fail ; for his fits took 
him again, so that he could by no means go after them. 
Then they went on, and came to the King's highway, and so 
were safe, because they were out of his jurisdiction. 

Now, when they were gone over the stile, they began to 
contrive with themselves what they should do at that stile to 
prevent those that should come after from falling into the 
hands of Giant Despair. So they consented to erect there a 
pillar, and to engrave upon the side thereof this sentence : 
" Over this stile is the way to Doubting Castle, which is kept 
by Giant Despair, who despiseth the King of the Celestial 
country, and seeks to destroy his holy pilgrims." Many, 
therefore, that followed after read what was written, and es- 
caped the danger. This done, they sang as follows : 

" Out of the way we went, and then we found 
What 't was to tread upon forbidden ground. 
And let them that come after have a care, 
Lest heedlessness makes them as we to fare ; 
Lest they, for trespassing, his prisoners are, 
Whose castle's Doubting, and whose name's Despair." 

They went then till they came to the Delectable Mountains, 
which mountains belong to the Lord of that hill of which we 
have spoken before. So they went up to the mountains, to 
behold the gardens and orchards, the vineyards and fountains 
of water, where also they drank and washed themselves, and 
did freely eat of the vineyards. Now there was on the tops of 
these mountains shepherds feeding their flocks ; and they stood 
by the highway-side. The pilgrims, therefore, went to them, 
and leaning upon their staves, as is common with weary pil- 
grims when they stand to talk with any by the way, they asked, 



THE DELECTABLE MOUNTAINS m 

Whose Delectable Mountains are these; and whose be the 
sheep that feed upon them 1 

Shep. These mountains are Emmanuel's land, and they are 
within sight of his city ; and the sheep also are his, and he laid 
down his life for them. 

Chr. Is this the way to the Celestial City 1 

Shep. You are just in your way. 

Che. How far is it thither ? 

Shep. Too far for any but those that shall get thither 
indeed. 

Chr. Is the way safe or dangerous 1 

Shep. Safe for those for whom it is to be safe ; but trans- 
gressors shall fall therein. 

Chr. Is there in this place any relief for pilgrims that are 
weary and faint in the way 1 

Shep. The Lord of these mountains hath given us a charge 
not to be forgetful to entertain strangers. Therefore the good 
of the place is before you. 

I saw also in my dream that when the shepherds perceived 
that they were wayfaring men, they also put questions to them, 
to which they made answer as in other places, as, Whence 
came you 1 and, How got you into the way ? and, By what 
means have you so persevered therein 1 for but few of them 
that begin to come hither do show their face on these moun- 
tains. But when the shepherds heard their answers, being 
pleased therewith, they looked very lovingly upon them, and 
said, Welcome to the Delectable Mountains. 

The shepherds, I say, whose names were Knowledge, Ex- 
perience, Watchful, and Sincere, took them by the hand, and 
had them to their tents, and made them partake of that which 
was ready at present. They said, moreover, We would that 
you should stay here a while, to be acquainted with us, and 
yet more to solace yourselves with the good of these Delectable 
Mountains. They then told them that they were content to 
stay. So they went to their rest that night, because it was 
very late. 

Then I saw in my dream that in the morning the shepherds 



112 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

called up Christian and Hopeful to walk with them upon the 
mountains. So they went forth with them and walked a 
while, having a pleasant prospect on every side. Then said 
the shepherds one to another, Shall we show these pilgrims 
some wonders 1 So when they had concluded to do it, they 
had them first to the top of a hill called Error, which was very 
steep on the furthest side, and bid them look down to the 
bottom. So Christian and Hopeful lookt down, and saw at 
the bottom several men dashed all to pieces by a fall that they 
had from the top. Then said Christian, What meaneth this ? 
The shepherds answered, Have you not heard of them that 
were made to err, by hearkening to Hymeneus and Philetus, 
as concerning the faith of the resurrection of the body ? They 
answered, Yes. Then said the shepherds, Those that you see 
lie dashed in pieces at the bottom of this mountain are they ; 
and they have continued to this day unburied, as you see, for 
an example to others to take heed how they clamber too high, 
or how they come too near the brink of this mountain. 

Then I saw that they had them to the top of another moun- 
tain, and the name of that is Caution, and bid them look afar 
off. Which, when they did, they perceived, as they thought, 
several men walking up and down among the tombs that were 
there ; and they perceived that the men were blind, because 
they stumbled sometimes upon the tombs, and because they 
could not get out from among them. Then said Christian, 
What means this? 

The shepherds then answered, Did you not see, a little be- 
low these mountains, a stile that led into a meadow, on the 
left hand of this way % They answered, Yes. Then said the 
shepherds, From that stile there goes a path that leads directly 
to Doubting Castle, which is kept by Giant Despair ; and these 
men (pointing to them among the tombs) came once on pil- 
grimage, as you do now, even until they came to that same 
stile. And because the right way was rough in that place, 
they chose to go out of it into that meadow, and there were 
taken by Giant Despair, and cast into Doubting Castle, where, 
after they had awhile been kept in the dungeon, he at last did 



A BY-WAY TO HELL 113 

put out their eyes, and led them among those tombs, where he 
has left them to wander to this very day, that the saying of 
the wise man might be fulfilled, " He that wandereth out of 
the way of understanding shall remain in the congregation 
of the dead." Then Christian and Hopeful looked upon one 
another with tears gushing out, but yet said nothing to the 
shepherds. 

Then I saw in my dream, that the shepherds had them to 
another place in a bottom, where was a door in the side of an 
hill ; and they opened the door, and bid them look in. They 
looked in, therefore, and saw that within it was very dark and 
smoky. They also thought that they heard there a rumbling 
noise, as of fire, and a cry of some tormented, and that they 
smelt the scent of brimstone. Then said Christian, What 
means this 1 The shepherds told them, This is a by-way to 
hell, a way that hypocrites go in at ; namely, such as sell 
their birthright with Esau, such as sell their Master with 
Judas, such as blaspheme the Gospel with Alexander, and 
that lie and dissemble with Ananias and Sapphira his wife. 

Then said Hopeful to the Shepherds, I perceive that these 
had on them, even every one, a show of pilgrimage, as we have 
now ; had they not ? 

Shep. Yes, and held it a long time, too. 

Hope. How far might they go on pilgrimage in their day, 
since they, notwithstanding, were thus miserably cast away 1 

Shep. Some further, and some not so far as these mountains. 

Then said the pilgrims one to the other, We had need to 
cry to the Strong for strength. 

Shep. Aye, and you will have need to use it when you 
have it, too. 

By this time the pilgrims had a desire to go forwards, and 
the shepherds a desire they should. So they walked together 
towards the end of the mountains. Then said the shepherds 
one to another, Let us here show to the pilgrims the gates of 
the Celestial City, if they have skill to look through our 
perspective-glass. The pilgrims lovingly accepted the motion. 
So they had them to the top of an high hill, called Clear, and 



114 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

gave them their glass to look. Then they tried to look ; but 
the remembrance of that last thing that the shepherds had 
showed them made their hands shake, by means of which im- 
pediment they could not look steadily through the glass. Yet 
they thought they saw something like the gate, and also some 
of the glory of the place. Then they went away, and sang this 

song : 

" Thus by the shepherds secrets are reveal'd, 
Which from all other men are kept conceal'd. 
Come to the shepherds, then, if you would see 
Things deep, things hid, and that mysterious be." 

When they were about to depart, one of the shepherds gave 
them a note of the way. Another of them bid them beware 
of the Flatterer. The third bid them take heed that they 
sleep not upon the Enchanted Ground. And the fourth bid 
them God speed. So I awoke from my dream. 

And I slept, and dreamed again, and saw the same two pil- 
grims going down the mountains along the highway towards 
the city. Now, a little below these mountains, on the left 
hand, lieth the country of Conceit, from which country there 
comes into the way in which the pilgrims walked a little 
crooked lane. Here, therefore, they met with a very brisk lad 
that came out of that country ; and his name was Ignorance. 
So Christian asked him from what parts he came, and whither 
he was going. 

Ignor. Sir, I was born in the country that lieth off there, 
a little on the left hand, and I am going to the Celestial City. 

Chr. But how do you think to get in at the gate, for you 
may find some difficulty there. 

Ignor. As other good people do, said he. 

Chr. But what have you to show at that gate 1 that the 
gate should be opened unto you 1 

Ignor. I know my Lord's will, and I have been a good 
liver. I pay every man his own. I pray, fast, pay tithes, and 
give alms, and have left my country for whither I am going. 

Chr. But thou earnest not in at the wicket-gate that is at 
the head of this way. Thou earnest in hither through that 



THE BRISK LAD IGNORANCE 115 

same crooked lane, and therefore I fear, however thou mayest 
think of thyself, when the reckoning-day shall come, thou wilt 
have laid to thy charge that thou art a thief and a robber, 
instead of getting admittance into the city. 

Ignor. Gentlemen, ye be utter strangers to me; I know 
you not. Be content to follow the religion of your country ; 
and I will follow the religion of mine. I hope all will be well. 
And as for the gate that you talk of, all the world knows that 
that is a great way off of our country. I cannot think that 
any man in all our parts doth so much as know the way to it. 
Nor need they matter whether they do or no, since we have, 
as you see, a fine, pleasant, green lane, that comes down from 
our country the next way into the way. 

When Christian saw that the man was wise in his own con- 
ceit, he said to Hopeful whisperingly, " There is more hopes 
of a fool than of him ; " and said, moreover, " When he that is 
a fool walketh by the way, his wisdom faileth him, and he saith 
to every one that he is a fool." What ! shall we talk further 
with him, or outgo him at present, and so leave him to think 
of what he hath heard already, and then stop again for him 
afterwards, and see if by degrees we can do any good to him ? 
Then said Hopeful, 

" Let Ignorance a little while now muse 
On what is said, and let him not refuse 
Good counsel to embrace, lest he remain 
Still ignorant of what 's the chiefest gain. 
God saith those that no understanding have, 
Although lie made them, them he will not save." 

Hope. He further added, It is not good, I think, to say to 
him all at once. Let us pass him by, if you will, and talk to 
him anon, even as he is able to bear it. 

So they both went on, and Ignorance he came after. Now, 
when they had passed him a little way, they entered into a 
very dark lane, where they met a man whom seven devils had 
bound with seven strong cords, and were a-carrying of him 
back to the door that they saw on the side of the hill. Now good 



116 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Christian began to tremble ; and so did Hopeful, his companion. 
Yet, as the devils led away the man, Christian looked to see if 
he knew him ; and he thought it might be one Turn-away, 
that dwelt in the town of Apostasy. But he did not perfectly 
see his face, for he did hang his head like a thief that is found ; 
but, being gone past, Hopeful looked after him, and espied on 
his back a paper with this inscription, " Wanton professor, and 
damnable apostate." 

Then said Christian to his fellow, Now I call to remembrance 
that which was told me of a thing that happened to a good 
man hereabout. The name of the man was Little-Faith ; but 
a good man, and he dwelt in the town of Sincere. The thing 
was this. At the entering in of this passage there comes 
down from Broadway-gate a lane, called Dead- Man's lane, so 
called because of the murders that are commonly done there ; 
and this Little-Faith going on pilgrimage, as we do now, 
chanced to sit down there and slept. Now there happened at 
that time to come down that lane from Broadway-gate three 
sturdy rogues, and their names were Faint-Heart, Mistrust, 
and Guilt, three brothers ; and they, espying Little-Faith where 
he was, came galloping up with speed. Now the good man 
was just awaked from his sleep, and was getting up to go on 
his journey. So they came up all to him, and with threatning 
language bid him stand. At this, Little-Faith lookt as white 
as a clout, and had neither power to fight nor fly. Then said 
Faint-Heart, Deliver thy purse ; but he making no haste to do 
it, for he was loth to lose his money, Mistrust ran up to him 
and, thrusting his hand into his pocket, pulled out thence a 
bag of silver. Then he cried out, Thieves, thieves ! With 
that Guilt, with a great club that was in his hand, strook 
Little-Faith on the head, and with that blow felled him flat to 
the ground, where he lay bleeding as one that would bleed to 
death. All this while the thieves stood by. But at last, they 
hearing that some were upon the road, and fearing lest it 
should be one Great- Grace, that dwells in the city of Good- 
Confidence, they betook themselves to their heels, and left this 
good man to shift for himself. Now, after a while, Little-Faith 



DISCOURSE ABOUT LITTLE-FAITH 117 

carne to himself and, getting up, made shift to scramble on his 
way. This was the story. 

Hope. But did they take from him all that ever he had ? 

Chr. No ; the place where his jewels were they never ran- 
sackt. So those he kept still. But, as I was told, the good 
man was much afflicted for his loss ; for the thieves got most 
of his spending-money. That which they got not, as I said, 
were jewels. Also he had a little odd money left, but scarce 
enough to bring him to his journey's end. Nay, if I was not 
misinformed, he was forced to beg as he went, to keep himself 
alive ; for his jewels he might not sell. But beg and do what 
he could, he went, as we say, with many a hungry belly the 
most part of the rest of the way. 

Hope. But is it not a wonder they got not from him his 
certificate, by which he was to receive his admittance at the 
Celestial Gate 1 

Chr. 'Tis a wonder but they got not that, though they 
mist it not through any good cunning of his ; for he, being dis- 
mayed by their coming upon him, had neither power nor skill 
to hide any thing. So 't was more by good providence than 
by his endeavor that they mist of that good thing. 

Hope. But it must needs be a comfort to him that they got 
not this jewel from him. 

Chr. It might have been great comfort to him, had he used 
it as he should ; but they that told me the story said that he 
made but little use of it all the rest of the way, and that be- 
cause of the dismay that he had in the taking away his money. 
Indeed, he forgot it a great part of the rest of his journey ; and 
besides, when at any time it came into his mind, and he be- 
gan to be comforted therewith, then would fresh thoughts of 
his loss come again upon him, and these thoughts would swal- 
low up all. 

Hope. Alas, poor man ! this could not but be a great grief 
unto him. 

Chr. Grief? Aye, a grief indeed! "Would it not have 
been so to any of us, had we been used as he, to be robbed 
and wounded too, and that in a strange place, as he was ? 



118 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

'T is a wonder he did not die with grief, poor heart ! I was 
told that he scattered almost all the rest of the way with 
nothing but doleful and bitter complaints, telling, also, to all 
that overtook him, or that he overtook in the way as he went, 
where he was robbed, and how, who they were that did it, and 
what he had lost, how he was wounded, and that he hardly 
escaped with life. 

Hope. But 'tis a wonder that his necessity did not put 
him upon selling or pawning some of his jewels, that he might 
have therewith to relieve himself in his journey. 

Chr. Thou talkest like one upon whose head is the shell to 
this very day. For what should he pawn them 1 or to whom 
should he sell them 1 In all that country where he was robbed 
his jewels were not accounted of; nor did he want that relief 
which could from thence be administred to him. Besides, 
had his jewels been missing at the gate of the Celestial City, 
he had (and that he knew well enough) been excluded from 
an inheritance there ; and that would have been worse to him 
than the appearance and villainy of ten thousand thieves. 

Hope. Why art thou so tart, my brother 1 Esau sold his 
birthright, and that for a mess of pottage ; and that birth- 
right was his greatest jewel ; and if he, why might not Little- 
Faith do so too ? 

Chr. Esau did sell his birthright indeed, and so do many 
besides, and by so doing exclude themselves from the chief 
blessing, as also that caitiff did ; but you must put a differ- 
ence betwixt Esau and Little-Faith, and also betwixt their 
estates. Esau's birthright was typical ; but Little-Faith's 
jewels were not so. Esau's belly was his god; but Little- 
Faith's belly was not so. Esau's want lay in his fleshly 
appetite ; Little-Faith's did not so. Besides, Esau could see 
no further than to the fulfilling of his lusts ; for I am at the 
point to die, said he ; and what good will this birthright do 
me 1 But Little-Faith, though it was his lot to have but a 
little faith, was by his little faith kept from such extrava- 
gancies, and made to see and prize his jewels more than to 
sell them, as Esau did his birthright. You read not anywhere 



DISCOURSE ABOUT LITTLE-FAITH 119 

that Esau had faith, no, not so much as a little. Therefore 
no marvel, where the flesh only bears sway, as it will in 
that man where no faith is to resist, if he sells his birthright, 
and his soul and all, and that to the devil of hell ; for it is 
with such as it is with the ass, who in her occasions cannot 
be turned away. When their minds are set upon their lusts, 
they will have them, whatever they cost. But Little-Faith 
was of another temper. His mind was on things divine; 
his livelihood was upon things that were spiritual, and from 
above. Therefore to what end should he that is of such a 
temper sell his jewels, had there been any that would have 
bought them, to fill his mind with empty things? Will a 
man give a penny to fill his belly with hay 1 or can you per- 
suade the turtledove to live upon carrion, like the crow? 
Though faithless ones can, for carnal lusts, pawn, or mort- 
gage, or sell what they have, and themselves outright to boot, 
yet they that have faith, saving faith, though but a little of it, 
cannot do so. Here, therefore, my brother, is thy mistake. 

Hope. I acknowledge it ; but yet your severe reflection 
had almost made me angry. 

Chr. Why, I uid but compare thee to some of the birds 
that are of the brisker sort, who will run to and fro in un- 
trodden paths with the shell upon their heads. But pass by 
that, and consider the matter under debate ; and all shall be 
well betwixt thee and me. 

Hope. But, Christian, these three fellows, I am persuaded 
in my heart, are but a company of cowards. Would they 
have run else, think you, as they did, at the noise of one that 
was coming on the road 1 Why did not Little-Faith pluck up 
a greater heart ? He might, methinks, have stood one brush 
with them, and have yielded when there had been no remedy. 

Chr. That they are cowards, many have said ; but few 
have found it so in the time of trial. As for a great heart, 
Little-Faith had none ; and I perceive by thee, my brother, 
hadst thou been the man concerned, thou art but for a brush, 
and then to yield. And, verily, since this is the height 01 
thy stomach now they are at a distance from us, should they 



120 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

appear to thee as they did to him, they might put thee to 
second thoughts. 

But consider again that they are but journeymen thieves. 
They serve under the king of the bottomless pit, who, if 
need be, will come to their aid himself; and his voice is as 
the roaring of a lion. I myself have been engaged as this 
Little-Faith was; and I found it a terrible thing. These 
three villains set upon me ; and I beginning like a Christian 
to resist, they gave but a call, and in came their master. I 
would, as the saying is, have given my life for a penny, but 
that, as God would have it, I was clothed with armor of 
proof. Aye, and yet, though I was so harnessed, I found it 
hard work to quit myself like a man. No man can tell what 
in that combat attends us, but he that hath been in the 
battle himself. 

Hope. Well, but they ran, you see, when they did but 
suppose that one Great- Grace was in the way. 

Cmt. True, they have often fled, both they and their 
master, when Great- Grace hath but appeared ; and no 
marvel, for he is the King's champion. But I trow you will 
put some difference between Little-Faith and the King's 
champion. All the King's subjects are not his champions ; 
nor can they, when tried, do such feats of war as he. Is it 
meet to think that a little child should handle Goliath as 
David did 1 or that there should be the strength of an ox in 
a wren 1 Some are strong, some are weak ; some have great 
faith, some have little. This man was one of the weak, and 
therefore he went to the walls. 

Hope. I would it had been Great-Grace, for their sakes. 

Chr. If it had been he, he might have had his hands full ; 
for I must tell you that, though Great-Grace is excellent 
good at his weapons, and has, and can, so long as he keeps 
them at sword's point, do well enough with them, yet if they 
get within him, even Faint-Heart, Mistrust, or the other, it 
shall go hard but they will throw up his heels. And when a 
man is down, you know, what can he do ? Whoso looks well 
upon Great- Grace's face will see those scars and cuts there 



DISCOURSE ABOUT LITTLE-FAITH 121 

that shall easily give demonstration of what I say. Yea, 
once I heard that he should say, and that when he was in the 
combat, We despaired even of life. How did these sturdy 
rogues and their fellows make David groan, mourn, and roar ! 
Yea, Heman, and Hezekiah too, though champions in their 
day, were forced to bestir them when by these assaulted ; and 
yet, notwithstanding, they had their coats soundly brushed 
by them. Peter, upon a time, would go try what he could 
do ; but though some do say of him that he is the prince of 
the apostles, they handled him so that they made him at last 
afraid of a sorry girl. 

Besides, their king is at their whistle ; he is never out of 
hearing ; and if at any time they be put to the worst, he, if 
possible, comes in to help them. And of him it is said, " The 
sword of him that layeth at him cannot hold, the spear, the 
dart, nor the habergeon. He esteemeth iron as straw, and 
brass as rotten wood. The arrow cannot make him fly ; sling- 
stones are turned with him into stubble. Darts are counted 
as stubble ; he laugheth at the shaking of a spear." What 
can a man do in this case 1 'T is true, if a man could at every 
turn have Job's horse, and had skill and courage to ride him, 
he might do notable things. " For his neck is clothed with 
thunder. He will not be afraid as the grasshopper. The 
glory of his nostrils is terrible. He paweth in the valley, re- 
joiceth in his strength, and goeth out to meet the armed men. 
He mocketh at fear, and is not affrighted ; neither turneth 
back from the sword. The quiver rattleth against him, the 
glittering spear and the shield. He swalloweth the ground 
with fierceness and rage ; neither believeth he that it is the 
sound of the trumpet. He saith among the trumpets, Ha, ha ! 
and he smelleth the battle afar off, the thundring of the cap- 
tains, and the shoutings." 

But for such footmen as thee and I are, let us never desire 
to meet with an enemy, nor vaunt as if we could do better, 
when we hear of others that have been foiled, nor be tickled 
at the thoughts of our own manhood ; for such commonly 
come by the worst when tried. Witness Peter, of whom I 



122 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

made mention before. He would swagger, aye, he would. 
He would, as his vain mind prompted him to say, do better 
and stand more for his Master than all men. But who so 
foiled and run down by those villains as he ? 

When, therefore, we hear that such robberies are done on 
the King's highway, two things become us to do : first, to go 
out harnessed, and to be sure to take a shield with us ; for it 
was for want of that that he that laid so lustily at Leviathan 
could not make him yield ; for, indeed, if that be wanting, he 
fears us not at all. Therefore he that had skill hath said, 
" Above all take the shield of faith, wherewith ye shall be able 
to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked." 'T is good, also, 
that we desire of the King a convoy, yea, that he will go with 
us himself. This made David rejoice when in the Valley of 
the Shadow of Death ; and Moses was rather for dying where 
he stood than to go one step without his God. my brother, 
if he will but go along with us, what need we be afraid of ten 
thousands that shall set themselves against us 1 But without 
him the proud helpers fall under the slain. 

I, for my part, have been in the fray before now; and 
though, through the goodness of Him that is best, I am, as 
you see, alive, yet I cannot boast of any manhood. Glad shall I 
be if I meet with no more such brunts, though I fear we are not 
got beyond all danger. However, since the lion and the bear 
have not as yet devoured me, I hope God will also deliver us 
from the next uncircumcised Philistine. Then sang Christian, 

" Poor Little-Faith ! hast been among the thieves ? 
Wast robb'd ? Remember this, whoso believes, 
And get more faith. Then shall you victors be 
Over ten thousand — else scarce over three." 

So they went on, and Ignorance followed. They went then 
till they came at a place where they saw a way put itself into 
their way, and seemed withal to lie as straight as the way 
which they should go ; and here they knew not which of the 
two to take, for both seemed straight before them. Therefore 
here they stood still to consider. And as they were thinking 



A SHINING ONE WITH A WHIP 123 

about the way, behold a man black of flesh, but covered with 
a very light robe, came to them and asked them why they 
stood there. They answered they were going to the Celestial 
City, but knew not which of these ways to take. " Follow 
me," said the man ; "it is thither that I am going." So they 
followed him in the way that but now came into the road, 
which by degrees turned, and turned them so far from the city 
that they desired to go to that in a little time their faces were 
turned away from it. Yet they followed him. But by and 
by, before they were aware, he led them both within the com- 
pass of a net, in which they were both so entangled that they 
knew not what to do ; and with that the white robe fell off 
the .black man's back. Then they saw where they were. 
Wherefore there they lay crying some time, for they could not 
get themselves out. 

Chr. Then said Christian to his fellow, now do I see myself 
in an error. Did not the shepherds bid us beware of the flat- 
terers ? As is the saying of the wise man, so we have found 
it this day : "A man that flattereth his neighbor spreadeth a 
net for his feet." 

Hope. They also gave us a note of directions about the 
way, for our more sure finding thereof; but therein we have 
also forgotten to read, and have not kept ourselves from the 
paths of the destroyer. Here David was wiser than we ; for, 
saith he, " Concerning the works of men, by the word of thy 
lips I have kept me from the paths of the destroyer." Thus 
they lay bewailing themselves in the net. At last they espied 
a Shining One coming towards them with a whip of small 
cord in his hand. When he was come to the place where 
they were, he asked them whence they came, and what they 
did there. They told him that they were poor pilgrims going 
to Sion, but were led out of their way by a black man clothed 
in white, who bid us, said they, follow him, for he was going 
thither too. Then said he with the whip, It is Flatterer, a 
false apostle, that hath transformed himself into an angel of 
light. So he rent the net, and let the men out. Then said 
he to them, Follow me, that I may set you in your way again. 



124 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

So he led them back to the way which they had left to follow 
the Flatterer. Then he asked them, saying, Where did you 
lie the last night ? They said, With the shepherds upon the 
Delectable Mountains. He asked them then if they Had not 
of them shepherds a note of direction for the way. They an- 
swered, Yes. But did you, said he, when you were at a stand, 
pluck out and read your note? They answered, No. He 
asked them, Why % They said they forgot. He asked, more- 
over, if the shepherds did not bid them beware of the Flatterer. 
They answered, Yes ; but we did not imagine, said they, that 
this fine-spoken man had been he. 

Then I saw in my dream, that he commanded them to lie 
down ; which when they did, he chastised them sore, to teach 
them the good way wherein they should walk. And as he 
chastised them, he said, "As many as I love, I rebuke and 
chasten. Be zealous, therefore, and repent." This done, he 
bids them go on their way, and take good heed to the other 
directions of the shepherds. So they thanked him for all his 
kindness, and went softly along the right way, singing, 

" Come hither, you that walk along the way ; 
See how the pilgrims fare that go astray. 
They catched are in an entangled net, 
'Cause they good counsel lightly did forget. 
'T is true, they rescued were ; but yet, you see, 
They 're scourged to boot. Let this your caution be." 

Now after a while they perceived afar off one coming softly 
and alone all along the highway to meet them. Then said 
Christian to his fellow, Yonder is a man with his back towards 
Sion ; and he is coming to meet us. 

Hope. I see him. Let us take heed to ourselves now, lest 
he should prove a flatterer also. So he drew nearer and nearer, 
and at last came up unto them. His name was Atheist ; and 
he asked them whither they were going. 

Chr. We are going to the Mount Sion. 

Then Atheist fell into a very great laughter. 

Che. What is the meaning of your laughter? 



ATHEIST MEETS THE PILGRIMS 125 

Atheist. I laugh to see what ignorant persons you are, to 
take upon you so tedious a journey, and yet are like to have 
nothing but your travel for your pains. 

Chr. Why, man, do you think we shall not be received % 

Atheist. Received ! There is not such a place as you 
dream of in all this world. 

Chr. But there is in the world to come. 

Atheist. When I was at home in mine own country I heard 
as you now affirm, and from that hearing went out to see, and 
have been seeking this city twenty years, but find no more of 
it than I did the first day I set out. 

Chr. We have both heard and believe that there is such a 
place to be found. 

Atheist. Had not I, when at home, believed, I had not come 
thus far to seek ; but, finding none (and yet I should, had 
there been such a place to be found, for I have gone to seek 
it further than you), I am going back again, and will seek to 
refresh myself with the things that I then cast away for hopes 
of that which I now see is not. 

Chr. Then said Christian to Hopeful his companion, Is it 
true which this man bath said ? 

Hope. Take heed ; he is one of the Flatterers. Remember 
what it cost us once already for our hearkning to such kind of 
fellows. What ! no Mount Sion 1 Did we not see from the 
Delectable Mountains the gate of the city ? Also, are we not 
now to walk by faith 1 Let us go on, said Hopeful, lest the 
man with the whip overtake us again. You should have 
taught me that lesson, which I will round you in the ears 
withal : "Cease, my son, to hear the instruction that causeth 
to err from the words of knowledge." I say, my brother, cease 
to hear him, and let us believe to the saving of the soul. 

Chr. My brother, I did not put the question to thee for 
that I doubted of the truth of our belief myself, but to prove 
thee, and to fetch from thee a fruit of the honesty of thy heart. 
As for this man, I know that he is blinded by the god of this 
world. Let thee and I go on, knowing that we have belief of 
the truth ; and no lie is of the truth. 



126 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Hope. Now do I rejoice in hope of the glory of God. So 
they turned away from the man ; and he, laughing at them, 
went his way. 

I saw then in my dream that they went on uutil they came 
into a certaiu country whose air naturally tended to make one 
drowsy, if he came a stranger into it. And here Hopeful 
began to be very dull and heavy of sleep. Wherefore he 
said unto Christian, I do now begin to grow so drowsy that 
I can scarcely hold up mine eyes. Let us lie down here and 
take one nap. 

Chr. By no means, said the other, lest, sleeping, we never 
awake more. 

Hope. Why, my brother % Sleep is sweet to the laboring 
man. We may be refreshed, if we take a nap. 

Chr. Do you not remember that one of the shepherds bid 
us beware of the Enchanted Ground 1 He meant by that that 
we should beware of sleeping. Wherefore let us not sleep, as 
do others ; but let us watch and be sober. 

Hope. I acknowledge myself in a fault ; and had I been 
here alone, I had by sleeping run the danger of death. I see 
it is true that the wise man saith, "Two are better than 
one." Hitherto hath thy company been my mercy ; and thou 
shalt have a good reward for thy labor. 

Chr. Now, then, said Christian, to prevent drowsiness in 
this place, let us fall into good discourse. 

Hope. With all my heart, said the other. 

Chr. Where shall we begin 1 

Hope. Where God began with us. But do you begin, if 
you please. 

Chr. I will sing you first this song : 

" When saints do sleepy grow, let them come hither, 
And hear how these two pilgrims talk together. 
Yea, let them learn of them in any wise 
Thus to keep ope their drowsy, slunib'ring eyes. 
Saints' fellowship, if it be managed well, 
Keeps them awake, and that in spite of hell." 



HOPEFUL TELLS OF HIS CONVERSION 127 

Then Christian began and said, I will ask you a question. 
How came you to think at first of doing what you do now 1 

Hope. Do you mean, how came I at first to look after the 
good of my soul 1 

Chr. Yes, that is my meaning. 

Hope. I continued a great while in the delight of those 
things which were seen and sold at our fair, — things which 
I believe now would have, had I continued in them still, 
drowned me in perdition and destruction. 

Chr. What things were they ? 

Hope. All the treasures and riches of the world. Also I 
delighted much in rioting, revelling, drinking, swearing, lying, 
uncleanness, sabbath-breaking, and what not, that tended 
to destroy the soul. But I found at last, by hearing and 
considering of things that are divine, which, indeed, I heard 
of you, as also of beloved Faithful that was put to death for 
his faith and good living in Vanity Fair, that the end of these 
things is death, and that for these things' sake the wrath of 
God cometh upon the children of disobedience. 

Chr. And did you presently fall under the power of this 
conviction 1 

Hope. No, I was not willing presently to know the evil of 
sin, nor the damnation that follows upon the commission of it, 
but endeavored, when my mind at first began to be shaken 
with the word, to shut mine eyes against the light thereof. 

Chr. But what was the cause of your carrying of it thus to 
the first workings of God's blessed Spirit upon you 1 

Hope. The causes were : 1. I was ignorant that this was 
the work of God upon me; I never thought that by awak- 
nings for sin God at first begins the conversion of a sinner ; 
2. sin was yet very sweet to my flesh, and I was loth to leave 
it j 3. I could not tell how to part with mine old companions, 
their presence and actions were so desirable unto me ; 4. the 
hours in which convictions were upon me were such trouble- 
some and such heart-affrighting hours that I could not bear, 
no, not so much as the remembrance of them upon my 
heart. 



128 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Chr. Then, as it seems, sometimes you got rid of your 
trouble. 

Hope. Yes, verily, but it would come into my mind again ; 
and then I should be as bad, nay, worse than I was before. 

Chr. Why, what was it that brought your sins to mind 
again ? 

Hope. Many things ; as, 

1. if I did but meet a good man in the streets ; or, 

2. if I have heard any read in the Bible ; or, 

3. if my head did begin to ache ; or, 

4. if I were told that some of my neighbors were sick ; or, 

5. if I heard the bell toll for some that were dead ; or, 

6. if I thought of dying myself; or, 

7. if I heard that sudden death happened to others ; 

8. but especially when I thought of myself, that I must 
quickly come to judgment. 

Chr. And could you at any time, with ease, get off the 
guilt of sin, when by any of these ways it came upon you ? 

Hope. No, not I ; for then they got faster hold of my con- 
science ; and then, if I did but think of going back to sin, 
though my mind was turned against it, it would be double 
torment to me. 

Chr. And how did you do then 1 

Hope. I thought I must endeavor to mend my life ; or else, 
thought I, I am sure to be damned. 

Chr. And did you endeavor to mend ? 

Hope. Yes, and fled from, not only my sins, but sinful com- 
pany too, and betook me to religious duties, as praying, read- 
ing, weeping for sin, speaking truth to my neighbors, etc. 
These things did I, with many others, too much here to relate. 

Chr. And did you think yourself well then ] 

Hope. Yes, for a while ; but at the last my trouble came 
tumbling upon me again, and that over the neck of all my 
reformation. 

Chr. How came that about, since you were now reformed ? 

Hope. There were several things brought it upon me, es- 
pecially such sayings as these : " All our righteousnesses are 



HOPEFUL TELLS OF HIS CONVERSION 129 

as filthy rags." " By the works of the law no man shall be 
justified." " When you have done all things, say, We are un- 
profitable," — with many more such like. From whence I be- 
gan to reason with myself thus : If all my righteousnesses are 
filthy rags, if by the deeds of the law no man can be justified, 
and if, when we have done all, we are yet unprofitable, then 't is 
but a folly to think of heaven by the law. I further thought 
thus : If a man runs an hundred pounds into the shopkeeper's 
debt, and after that shall pay for all that he shall fetch, yet if 
his old debt stand still in the book uncrossed, for that the 
shopkeeper may sue him, and cast him into prison till he shall 
pay the debt. 

Chr. Well, and how did you apply this to yourself 1 

Hope. Why, I thought thus with myself: I have by my 
sins run a great way into God's book, and that my now reform- 
ing will not pay off that score. Therefore I should think still, 
under all my present amendments, But how shall I be freed 
from that damnation that I brought myself in danger of by 
my former transgressions ? 

Chr. A very good application ; but pray go on. 

Hope. Another thing that hath troubled me even since 
my late amendments is that if I look narrowly into the best 
of what I do now, I still see sin, new sin, mixing itself with 
the best of that I do ; so that now I am forced to conclude 
that, notwithstanding my former fond conceits of myself and 
duties, I have committed sin enough in one duty to send me 
to hell, though my former life had been faultless. 

Chr. And what did you do then ? 

Hope. Do ! I could not tell what to do, until I broke my 
mind to Faithful ; for he and I were well acquainted. And he 
told me that unless I could obtain the righteousness of a man 
that never had sinned, neither mine own, nor all the righteous- 
ness of the world, could save me. 

Chr. And did you think he spake true ? 

Hope. Had he told me so when I was pleased and satisfied 
with mine own amendments, I had called him fool for his 
pains ; but now, since I see my own infirmity, and the sin 



130 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

which cleaves to my best performance, I have been forced to 
be of his opinion. 

Chr. But did you think, when at first he suggested it to 
you, that there was such a man to be found, of whom it might 
justly be said that he never committed sin ? 

Hope. I must confess the words at first sounded strangely ; 
but after a little more talk and company with him I had full 
conviction about it. 

Chr. And did you ask him what man this was, and how 
you must be justified by him ? 

Hope. Yes, and he told me it was the Lord Jesus, that 
dwelleth on the right hand of the Most High. And thus, 
said he, you must be justified by him, even by trusting to 
what he hath done by himself in the days of his flesh, and 
suffered when he did hang on the tree. I asked him further 
how that man's righteousness could be of that efficacy to justify 
another before God. And he told me he was the mighty 
God, and did what he did, and died the death also, not for 
himself, but for me, to whom his doings, and the worthiness 
of them, should be imputed, if I believed on him. 

Chr. And what did you do then 1 

Hope. I made my objections against my believing, for that 
I thought he was not willing to save me. 

Chr. And what said Faithful to you then ? 

Hope. He bid me go to him and see. Then I said it was 
presumption. He said, No ; for I was invited to come. Then 
he gave me a book of Jesus his inditing, to encourage me the 
more freely to come ; and he said concerning that book that 
every jot and tittle thereof stood firmer than heaven and earth. 
Then I asked him what I must do when I came ; and he told 
me I must entreat upon my knees, with all my heart and soul, 
the Father to reveal him to me. Then I asked him further 
how I must make my supplication to him ; and he said, Go, 
and thou shalt find him upon a mercy-seat, where he sits all 
the year long to give pardon and forgiveness to them that 
come. I told him that I knew not what to say when I came ; 
and he bid me say to this effect : God be merciful to me a 



HOPEFUL TELLS OF HIS CONVERSION 131 

sinner, and make me to know and believe in Jesus Christ; 
for I see that if his righteousness had not been, or I have not 
faith in that righteousness, I am utterly cast away. Lord, I 
have heard that thou art a merciful God, and hast ordained 
that thy Son Jesus Christ should be the Saviour of the world, 
and moreover that thou art willing to bestow him upon such 
a poor sinner as I am — and I am a sinner indeed. Lord, 
take therefore this opportunity, and magnify thy grace in the 
salvation of my soul, through thy son Jesus Christ. Amen. 

Chr. And did you do as you were bidden 1 

Hope. Yes, over, and over, and over. 

Chr. And did the Father reveal the Son to you 1 

Hope. Not at the first, nor second, nor third, nor fourth, 
nor fifth, no, nor at the sixth time, neither. 

Chr. What did you do then 1 

Hope. What 1 why, I could not tell what to do. 

Chr. Had you not thoughts of leaving off praying % 

Hope. Yes ; an hundred times twice told. 

Chr. And what was the reason you did not % 

Hope. I believed that that was true which had been told 
me, to wit, that without the righteousness of this Christ, all 
the world could not save me ; and therefore, thought I with 
myself, if I leave off, I die, and I can but die at the throne of 
grace. And withal this came into my mind, "If it tarry, 
wait for it, because it will surely come, and will not tarry." 
So I continued praying until the Father showed me his Son. 

Chr. And how was he revealed unto you % 

Hope. I did not see him with my bodily eyes, but with the 
eyes of mine understanding ; and thus it was. One day I was 
very sad, I think sadder than at any one time in my life ; and 
this sadness was through a fresh sight of the greatness and 
vileness of my sins. And as I was then looking for nothing 
but hell, and the everlasting damnation of my soul, suddenly, 
as I thought, I saw the Lord Jesus look down from heaven 
upon me, and saying, " Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and 
thou shalt be saved." But, I replied, Lord, I am a great, a very 
great sinner; and he answered, "My grace is sufficient for 



132 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

thee." Then I said, But, Lord, what is believing % And then 
I saw from that saying, "He that cometh to me shall never 
hunger, and he that believeth on me shall never thirst," 
that believing and coming was all one, and that he that came, 
that is, that run out in his heart and affections after salvation 
by Christ, he indeed believed in Christ. Then the water 
stood in mine eyes, and I asked further, But, Lord, may such 
a great sinner as I am be indeed accepted of thee, and be 
saved by thee 1 ? And I heard him say, "And him that 
cometh to me, I will in nowise cast out." Then I said, But 
how, Lord, must I consider of thee in my coming to thee, that 
my faith may be placed aright upon thee? Then he said, 
" Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners." He is 
the end of the law for righteousness to every one that believes. 
He died for our sins, and rose again for our justification. He 
loved us, and washed us from our sins in his own blood. He 
is Mediator between God and us. He ever liveth to make 
intercession for us. From all which I gathered that I must 
look lor nghteousness in his person, and for satisfaction for 
my sins by his blood, that what he did in obedience to his 
Father's law and in submitting to the penalty thereof was not 
for himself, but for him that will accept it for his salvation 
and be thankful. And now was my heart full of joy, mine 
eyes full of tears, and mine affections running over with love 
to the name, people, and ways of Jesus Christ. 

Chr. This was a revelation of Christ to your soul indeed. 
But tell me particularly what effect this had upon your spirit. 

Hope. It made me see that all the world, notwithstanding 
all the righteousness thereof, is in a state of condemnation. 
It made me see that God the Father, though he be just, can 
justly justify the coming sinner. It made me greatly ashamed 
of the vileness of my former life, and confounded me with the 
sense of mine own ignorance ; for there never came thought 
into my heart before now that showed me so the beauty of 
Jesus Christ. It made me love a holy life, and long to do 
something for the honor and glory of the name of the Lord 
Jesus. Yea, I thought that had I now a thousand gallons of 



IGNORANCE COMES UP AGAIN 133 

blood in my body, I could spill it all for the sake of the Lord 
Jesus. 

I saw then in my dream that Hopeful looked back and saw 
Ignorance, whom they had left behind, coming after. Look, 
said he to Christian, how far yonder youngster loitereth 
behind. 

Chr. Aye, aye, I see him. He careth not for our company. 

Hope. But I trow it would not have hurt him, had he kept 
pace with us hitherto. 

Chr. That 's true ; but I warrant you he thinketh other- 
wise. 

Hope. That I think he doth ; but, however, let us tarry for 
him. So they did. 

Then Christian said to him, Come away, man ; why do you 
stay so behind ? 

Ignor. I take my pleasure in walking alone, even more a 
great deal than in company, unless I like it the better. 

Then said Christian to Hopeful, but softly, Did I not tell 
you he cared not for our company ? But however, said he, 
come up, and let us talk away the time in this solitary place. 
Then, directing his speech to Ignorance, he said, Come, how 
do you do? How stands it between God and your soul 
now? 

Ignor. I hope, well ; for I am always full of good motions, 
that come into my mind to comfort me as I walk. 

Chr. What good motions ? Pray tell us. 

Ignor. Why, I think of God and heaven. 

Chr. So do the devils and damned souls. 

Ignor. But I think of them and desire them. 

Chr. So do many that are never like to come there. The 
soul of the sluggard desires, and hath nothing. 

Ignor. But I think of them, and leave all for them. 

Chr. That I doubt; for leaving of all is an hard matter, 
yea, a harder matter than many are aware of. But why, or 
by what, art thou persuaded that thou hast left all for God 
and heaven? 

Ignor, My heart tells me so. 



134 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Chr. The wise man says, He that trusts his own heart is a 
fool. 

Ignor. This is spoken of an evil heart ; but mine is a good 
one. 

Chr. But how dost thou prove that ? 

Ignor. It comforts me in hopes of heaven. 

Chr. That may be through its deceitfulness ; for a man's 
heart may minister comfort to him in the hopes of that thing 
for which he yet has no ground to hope. 

Ignor. But my heart and life agree together ; and there- 
fore my hope is well grounded. 

Chr. Who told thee that thy heart and life agree together ? 

Ignor. My heart tells me so. 

Chr. " Ask my fellow if I be a thief." Thy heart tells thee 
so ! Except the word of God beareth witness in this matter, 
other testimony is of no value. 

Ignor. But is it not a good heart that has good thoughts ? 
and is not that a good life that is according to God's 
commandments 1 

Chr. Yes, that is a good heart that hath good thoughts, 
and that is a good life that is according to God's command- 
ments ; but it is one thing indeed to have these, and another 
thing only to think so. 

Ignor. Pray, what count you good thoughts, and a life ac- 
cording to God's commandments ? 

Chr. There are good thoughts of divers kinds ; some re- 
specting ourselves, some God, some Christ, and some other 
things. 

Ignor. What be good thoughts respecting ourselves ? 

Chr. Such as agree with the word of God. 

Ignor. When does our thoughts of ourselves agree with the 
word of God ? 

Chr. When we pass the same judgment upon ourselves 
which the word passes. To explain myself, the word of God 
saith of persons in a natural condition, "There is none righteous, 
there is none that doth good." It saith also that every imagi- 
nation of the heart of man is only evil, and that continually ; 



CHRISTIAN AND IGNORANCE 135 

and again, " The imagination of man's heart is evil from his 
youth." Now, then, when we think thus of ourselves, having 
sense thereof, then are our thoughts good ones, because ac- 
cording to the word of God. 

Ignor. I will never believe that my heart is thus bad. 

Chr. Therefore thou never hadst one good thought con- 
cerning thyself in thy life. But let me go on. As the word 
passeth a judgment upon our heart, so it passeth a judgment 
upon our ways ; and when our thoughts of our hearts and 
ways agree with the judgment which the word giveth of both, 
then are both good, because agreeing thereto. 

Ignor. Make out your meaning. 

Chr. Why, the word of God saith that man's ways are 
crooked ways, not good, but perverse. It saith they are 
naturally out of the good way, that they have not known it 
Now when a man thus thinketh of his ways, I say when he 
doth sensibly and with heart-humiliation thus think, then 
hath he good thoughts of his own ways, because his thoughts 
now agree with the judgment of the word of God. 

Ignor. What are good thoughts concerning God % 

Chr. Even, as I have said concerning ourselves, when our 
thoughts of God do agree with what the word saith of him ; 
and that is, when we think of his being and attributes as the 
word hath taught ; of which I cannot now discourse at large. 
But to speak of him with reference to us, then we have right 
thoughts of God when we think that he knows us better than 
we know ourselves, and can see sin in us when and where we 
can see none in ourselves ; when we think he knows our inmost 
thoughts, and that our heart, with all its depths, is always 
open unto his eyes ; also when we think that all our righteous- 
ness stinks in his nostrils, and that therefore he cannot abide 
to see us stand before him in any confidence, even in all our 
best performances. 

Ignor. Do you think that I am such a fool as to think that 
God can see no further than I, or that I would come to God 
in the best of my performances % 

Chr. Why, how dost thou think in this matter % 



136 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Ignor. Why, to be short, I think I must believe in Christ 
for justification. 

Chr. How ! think thou must believe in Christ, when thou 
seest not thy need of him ! Thou neither seest thy original 
or actual infirmities ; but hast such an opinion of thyself, and 
of what thou doest, as plainly renders thee to be one that did 
never see a necessity of Christ's personal righteousness to 
justify thee before God. How, then, dost thou say, I believe 
in Christ ? 

Ignor. I believe well enough, for all that. 

Chr. How dost thou believe % 

Ignor. I believe that Christ died for sinners, and that I 
shall be justified before God from the curse, through his 
gracious acceptance of my obedience to his law. Or thus, 
Christ makes my duties that are religious acceptable to his 
Father by virtue of his merits ; and so shall I be justified. 

Chr. Let me give an answer to this confession of thy faith. 

1. Thou believest with a fantastical faith ; for this faith is 
nowhere described in the word. 

2. Thou believest with a false faith ; because it taketh justi- 
fication from the personal righteousness of Christ, and applies 
it to thy own. 

3. This faith maketh not Christ a justifier of thy person, 
but of thy actions ; and of thy person for thy actions' sake, 
which is false. 

4. Therefore this faith is deceitful, even such as will leave 
thee under wrath in the day of God Almighty ; for true justi- 
fying faiths puts the soul, as sensible of its lost condition by 
the law, upon flying for refuge unto Christ's righteousness. 
Which righteousness of his is not an act of grace by which he 
maketh, for j ustification, thy obedience accepted with God, but 
his personal obedience to the law, in doing and suffering for 
us what that required at our hands. This righteousness, I 
say, true faith accepteth, under the skirt of which the soul 
being shrouded, and by it presented as spotless before God, it 
is accepted, and acquit from condemnation. 

Ignor. What! would you have us trust to what Christ in 



CHRISTIAN AND IGNORANCE 137 

his own person has done without us 1 This conceit would 
loosen the reins of our lust, and tolerate us to live as we list ; 
for what matter how we live, if we may be justified by Christ's 
personal righteousness from all, when we believe it 1 

Chr. Ignorance is thy name and as thy name is, so art 
thou. Even this thy answer demonstrateth what I say. Ig- 
norant thou art of what justifying righteousness is, and as 
ignorant how to secure thy soul, through the faith of it, from 
the heavy wrath of God. Yea, thou also art ignorant of the 
true effects of saving faith in this righteousness of Christ, 
which is to bow and win over the heart to God in Christ, to 
love his name, his word, ways, and people, and not as thou 
ignorantly imaginest. 

Hope. Ask him if ever he had Christ revealed to him from 
Heaven. 

Ignor. What ! you are a man for revelations ! I do believe 
that what both you and all the rest of you say about that 
matter is but the fruit of distracted brains. 

Hope. Why, man, Christ is so hid in God from the natural 
apprehensions of the flesh that he cannot by any man be sav- 
ingly known, unless God the Father reveals him to him. 

■ Ignor. That is your faith, but not mine. Yet mine, I 
doubt not, is as good as yours, though I have not in my head 
so many whimsies as you. 

Chr. Give me leave to put in a word. You ought not so 
slightly to speak of this matter ; for this I will boldly affirm, 
even as my good companion hath done, that no man can know 
Jesus Christ but by the revelation of the Father. Yea, and 
faith too, by which the soul layeth hold upon Christ, if it be 
right, must be wrought by the exceeding greatness of his 
mighty power ; the working of which faith, I perceive, poor 
Ignorance, thou art ignorant of. Be awakened, then; see 
thine own wretchedness, and fly to the Lord Jesus ; and by 
his righteousness, which is the righteousness of God (for he 
himself is God), thou shalt be delivered from condemnation. 

Ignor. You go so fast I cannot keep pace with you. Do 
you go on before. I must stay a while behind. 



138 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Then they said, 

11 Well, Ignorance, wilt thou yet foolish be, 
To slight good counsel, ten times given thee ? 
And if thou yet refuse it, thou shalt know, 
Ere long, the evil of thy doing so. 
Remember, man, in time. Stoop ; do not fear. 
Good counsel, taken well, saves. Therefore hear. 
But if thou yet shalt slight it, thou wilt be 
The loser, Ignorance, I '11 warrant thee. " 

Then Christian addressed thus himself to his fellow : 

Chr. Well, come, my good Hopeful, I perceive that thou 
and I must walk by ourselves again. 

So I saw in my dream that they went on apace before, and 
Ignorance he came hobbling after. Then said Christian to 
his companion, it pities me much for this poor man. It will 
certainly go ill with him at last. 

Hope. Alas ! there are abundance in our town in his con- 
dition, whole families, yea, whole streets, and that of pilgrims 
too ; and if there be so many in our parts, how many, think 
you, must there be in the place where he was born 1 

Chr. Indeed, the word saith, " He hath blinded their eyes, 
lest they should see," etc. 

But, now we are by ourselves, what do you think of such 
men % Have they at no time, think you, convictions of sin, 
and so, consequently, fears that their state is dangerous 1 

Hope. Nay, do you answer that question yourself ; for you 
are the elder man. 

Chr. Then I say sometimes, as I think, they may ; but they, 
being naturally ignorant, understand not that such convictions 
tend to their good, and therefore they do desperately seek to 
stifle them, and presumptuously continue to flatter themselves 
in the way of their own hearts. 

Hope. I do believe, as you say, that fear tends much to 
men's good, and to make them right at their beginning to go 
on pilgrimage. 

Chr. Without all doubt it doth, if it be right ; for so says 
the word, " The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom," 



CHRISTIAN AND HOPEFUL 139 

Hope. How will you describe right fear ? 

Chr. True or right fear is discovered by three things : 

1. by its rise : it is caused by saving convictions for sin ; 

2. it driveth the soul to lay fast hold of Christ for sal- 
vation ; 

3. it begetteth and continueth in the soul a great reverence 
of God, his word, and ways, keeping it tender and making it 
afraid to turn from them to the right hand or to the left to 
any thing that may dishonor God, break its peace, grieve 
the Spirit, or cause the enemy to speak reproachfully. 

Hope. Well said. I believe you have said the truth. Are 
we now almost got past the Enchanted Ground 1 

Chr. Why % are you weary of this discourse ? 

Hope. No, verily, but that I would know where we are. 

Chr. We have not now above two miles further to go 
thereon. But let us return to our matter. 

Now the ignorant know not that such convictions as tend 
to put them in fear are for their good ; and therefore they 
seek to stifle them. 

Hope. How do they seek to stifle them 1 

Chr. 1. They think that those fears are wrought by the 
devil, though indeed they are wrought of God ; and, thinking 
so, they resist them as things that directly tend to their over- 
throw. 2. They also think that these fears tend to the spoil- 
ing of their faith, when, alas for them ! poor men that they 
are, they have none at all ; and therefore they harden their 
hearts against them. 3. They presume they ought not to 
fear ; and therefore, in despite of them, wax presumptuously 
confident. 4. They see that those fears tend to take away from 
them their pitiful old self-holiness ; and therefore they resist 
them with all their might. 

Hope. I know something of this myself; for before I knew 
myself it was so with me. 

Chr. Well, we will leave, at this time, our neighbor Igno- 
rance by himself, and fall upon another profitable question. 

Hope. With all my heart ; but you shall still begin. 

Chr. Well then, did you know, about ten years ago, one 



140 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Temporary in your parts, who was a forward man in religion 
then? 

Hope. Know him ! yes ; he dwelt in Graceless, a town 
about two miles off of Honesty, and he dwelt next door to one 
Turnback. 

Chr. Right ; he dwelt under the same roof with him. Well, 
that man was much awakened once. I believe that then he 
had some sight of his sins and of the wages that was due 
thereto. 

Hope. I am of your mind ; for, my house not being above 
three miles from him, he would ofttimes come to me, and that 
with many tears. Truly I pitied the man, and was not alto- 
gether without hope of him ; but one may see it is not every 
one that cries, " Lord, Lord ! " 

Chr. He told me once that he was resolved to go on pil- 
grimage, as we go now ; but all of a sudden he grew acquainted 
with one Save-self, and then he became a stranger to me. 

Hope. Now, since we are talking about him, let us a little 
inquire into the reason of the sudden backsliding of him and 
such others. 

Chr. It may be very profitable ; but do you begin. 

Hope. Well, then, there are, in my judgment, four reasons 
for it : 

1. Though the consciences of such men are awakened, yet 
their minds are not changed. Therefore, when the power of 
guilt weareth away, that which provoketh them to be religious 
ceaseth. Wherefore they naturally turn to their old course 
again. Even as we see the dog that is sick of what he hath 
eaten, so long as his sickness prevails, he vomits and casts up 
all, — not that he doth this of a free mind (if we may say a 
dog has a mind), but because it troubleth his stomach ; but 
now, when his sickness is over, and so his stomach eased, his 
desires being not at all alienate from his vomit, he turns him 
about, and licks up all ; and so it is true which is written, 
"The dog is turned to his own vomit again." This, I say, 
being hot for heaven, by virtue only of the sense and fear 
of the torments of hell, as their sense of hell and the fears of 



TALK OF ONE TEMPORARY 141 

damnation chills and cools, so their desires for heaven and 
salvation cool also. So then it comes to pass that when their 
guilt and fear is gone, their desires for heaven and happiness 
die, and they return to their course again. 

2. Another reason is, they have slavish fears that do over- 
master them. I speak now of the fears that they have of men ; 
" For the fear of man bringeth a snare." So then, though they 
seem to be hot for heaven so long as the flames of hell are 
about their ears, yet, when that terror is a little over, they 
betake themselves to second thoughts, namely, that 't is good 
to be wise, and not to run, for they know not what, the hazard 
of losing all, or at least of bringing themselves into unavoid- 
able and unnecessary troubles ; and so they fall in with the 
world again. 

3. The shame that attends religion lies also as a block in 
their way. They are proud and haughty ; and religion in 
their eye is low and contemptible. Therefore when they have 
lost their sense of hell and the wrath to come, they return 
again to their former course. 

4. Guilt, and to meditate terror, are grievous to them. 
They like not to see their misery before they come into it, 
though perhaps the sight of it at first, if they loved that sight, 
might make them fly whither the righteous fly and are safe ; 
but because they do, as I hinted before, even shun the thoughts 
of guilt and terror, therefore, when once they are rid of their 
awakenings about the terrors and wrath of God, they harden 
their hearts gladly, and choose such ways as will harden 
them more and more. 

Chr. You are pretty near the business ; for the bottom of 
all is for want of a change in their mind and will. And there- 
fore they are but like the felon that stand eth before the judge. 
He quakes and trembles, and seems to repent most heartily ; 
but the bottom of all is the fear of the halter, not that he 
hath any detestation of the offence, as it is evident, because, 
let but this man have his liberty, and he will be a thief and 
so a rogue still, whereas, if his mind was changed, he would 
be otherwise. 



142 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Hope. Now I have showed you the reasons of their going 
back, do you show me the manner thereof. 
Chr. So I will willingly. 

1. They draw off their thoughts, all that they may, from 
the remembrance of God, death, and judgment to come. 

2. Then they cast off by degrees private duties, as closet 
prayer, curbing their lusts, watching, sorrow for sin, and the 
like. 

3. Then they shun the company of lively and warm 
Christians. 

4. After that, they grow cold to public duty, as hearing, 
reading, godly conference, and the like. 

5. They then begin to pick holes, as we say, in the coats 
of some of the godly, and that devilishly, that they may have 
a seeming color to throw religion, for the sake of some infirmity 
they have spied in them, behind their backs. 

6. Then they begin to adhere to, and associate themselves 
with, carnal, loose, and wanton men. 

7. Then they give way to carnal and wanton discourses in 
secret ; and glad are they if they can see such things in any 
that are counted honest, that they may the more boldly do 
•it through their example. 

8. After this they begin to play with little sins openly. 

9. And then, being hardened, they show themselves as 
they are. Thus, being launched again into the gulf of misery, 
unless a miracle of grace prevent it, they everlastingly perish 
in their own deceivings. 

Now I saw in my dream that by this time the pilgrims 
were got over the Enchanted Ground, and entering in the 
country of Beulah, whose air was very sweet and pleasant. 
The way lying directly through it, they solaced themselves 
there for a season. Yea, here they heard continually the 
singing of birds, and saw every day the flowers appear in the 
earth, and heard the voice of the turtle in the land. In this 
country the sun shineth night and day. Wherefore this was 
beyond the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and also out of 
the reach of Giant Despair ; neither could they from this place 



BEULAH 143 

so much as see Doubting Castle. Here they were within sight 
of the city they were going to. Also here met them some of 
the inhabitants thereof; for in this land the shining ones 
commonly walked, because it was upon the borders of heaven. 
In this land also the contract between the Bride and the 
Bridegroom was renewed. Yea, here, "as the bridegroom 
rejoiceth over the bride, so doth their God rejoice over them." 
Here they had no want of corn and wine ; for in this place 
they met with abundance of what they had sought for in all 
their pilgrimage. Here they heard voices from out of the 
city, loud voices, saying, " Say ye to the daughter of Zion, 
Behold, thy salvation cometh ! Behold, his reward is with 
him ! " Here all the inhabitants of the country called them 
" the holy people, the redeemed of the Lord, sought out," 
etc. 

Now, as they walked in this land, they had more rejoicing 
than in parts more remote from the kingdom to which they 
were bound ; and, drawing near to the city, they had yet 
a more perfect view thereof. It was builded of pearls and 
precious stones ; also the street thereof was paved with gold ; 
so that, by reason of the natural glory of the city and the 
reflection of the sunbeams upon it, Christian with desire fell 
sick. Hopeful also had a fit or two of the same disease. 
Wherefore here they lay by it a while, crying out because of 
their pangs, " If you see my Beloved, tell him that I am sick 
of love." But, being a little strengthened, and better able 
to bear their sickness, they walked on their way, and came 
yet nearer and nearer, where were orchards, vineyards, and 
gardens, and their gates opened into the highway. Now, as 
they came up to these places, behold the gardener stood in 
the way ; to whom the pilgrims said, Whose goodly vineyards 
and gardens are these 1 He answered, They are the King's, 
and are planted here for his own delights, and also for the 
solace of pilgrims. So the gardener had them into the vine- 
yards, and bid them refresh themselves with the dainties. 
He also showed them there the King's walks and the arbors 
where he delighted to be ; and here they tarried and slept. 



144 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Now I beheld in my dream, that they talked more in their 
sleep at this time than ever they did in all their journey ; and, 
being in a muse thereabout, the gardener said even to me, 
Wherefore musest thou at the matter 1 It is the nature of the 
fruit of the grapes of these vineyards "to go down so sweetly 
as to cause the lips of them that are asleep to speak." 

So I saw that when they awoke, they addressed themselves 
to go up to the city. But, as I said, the reflections of the sun 
upon the city (for the city was pure gold) was so extremely 
glorious that they could not as yet with open face behold it, 
but through an instrument made for that purpose. So I saw 
that as they went on there met them two men in raiment that 
shone like gold ; also their faces shone as the light. These 
men asked the pilgrims whence they came ; and they told 
them. They also asked them where they had lodged, what 
difficulties and dangers, what comforts and pleasures, they 
had met in the way; and they told them. Then said the 
men that met them, You have but two difficulties more to 
meet with, and then you are in the city. Christian then 
and his companion asked the men to go along with them. 
So they told them that they would ; but, said they, you must 
obtain it by your own faith. So I saw in my dream that 
they went on together till they came in sight of the gate. 

Now I further saw that betwixt them and the gate was a 
river ; but there was no bridge to go over. The river was very 
deep. At the sight, therefore, of this river the pilgrims were 
much stunned ; but the men that went with them said, You 
must go through, or you cannot come at the gate. The 
pilgrims then began to inquire if there was no other way to 
the gate. To which they answered, Yes ; but there hath not 
any, save two, to wit, Enoch and Elijah, been permitted to 
tread that path since the foundation of the world ; nor shall 
until the last trumpet shall sound. The pilgrims then, espe- 
cially Christian, began to despond in his mind, and looked 
this way and that, but no way could be found by them by 
which they might escape the river. Then they asked the men 
if the waters were all of a depth. They said, No ; yet they 



THE RIVER OF DEATH 145 

could not help them in that case ; for, said they, you shall find 
it deeper or shallower as you believe in the King of the place. 

They then addressed themselves to the water and, entring, 
Christian began to sink, and, crying out to his good friend 
Hopeful, he said, I sink in deep water ; the billows go over my 
head ; all his waves go over me. Selah. Then said the other, 
Be of good cheer, my brother. I feel the bottom ; and it is good. 
Then said Christian, Ah ! my friend, the sorrows of death have 
compassed me about. I shall not see the land that flows with 
milk and honey. And with that a great darkness and horror 
fell upon Christian, so that he could not see before him. Also 
here he in a great measure lost his senses, so that he could 
neither remember nor orderly talk of any of those sweet re- 
freshments that he had met with in the way of his pilgrimage. 
But all the words that he spake still tended to discover that 
he had horror of mind, and heart-fears that he should die in 
that river, and never obtain entrance in at the gate. Here 
also, as they that stood by perceived, he was much in the 
troublesome thoughts of the sins that he had committed, both 
since and before he began to be a pilgrim. 'T was also ob- 
served that he was troubled with apparitions of hobgoblins 
and evil spirits ; for ever and anon he would intimate so much 
by words. 

Hopeful, therefore, here had much ado to keep his brother's 
head above water. Yea, sometimes he would be quite gone 
down; and then, ere a while, he would rise up again half 
dead. Hopeful did also endeavor to comfort him, saying, 
Brother, I see the gate, and men standing by to receive us ; 
but Christian would answer, 'T is you, 't is you they wait for ; 
for you have been hopeful ever since I knew you. And so 
have you, said he to Christian. Ah ! brother, said he, surely 
if I was right, he would now arise to help me ; but for my sins 
he hath brought me into the snare, and hath left me. Then 
said Hopeful, My brother, you have quite forgot the text 
where it's said of the wicked, "There is no band in their 
death ; but their strength is firm. They are not troubled as 
other men ; neither are they plagued like other men." These 

10 



146 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

troubles and distresses that you go through in these waters 
are no sign that God hath forsaken you, but are sent to try 
you, whether you will call to mind that which heretofore you 
have received of his goodness, and live upon him in your 
distresses. 

Then I saw in my dream that Christian was in a muse a 
while. To whom also Hopeful added this word, Be of good 
cheer ; Jesus Christ maketh thee whole. And with that Chris- 
tian brake out with a loud voice, Oh ! I see him again ; and 
he tells me, " When thou passest through the waters, I will be 
with thee, and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee." 
Then they both took courage ; and the enemy was after that 
as still as a stone, until they were gone over. Christian, there- 
fore, presently found ground to stand upon ; and so it followed 
that the rest of the river was but shallow. Thus they got over. 

Now upon the bank of the river, on the other side, they 
saw the two shining men again, who there waited for them. 
Wherefore, being come out of the river, they saluted them, 
saying, We are ministring spirits, sent forth to minister for 
those that shall be heirs of salvation. Thus they went along 
towards the gate. 

Now you must note that the city stood upon a mighty hill ; 
but the pilgrims went up that hill with ease, because they had 
these two men to lead them up by the arms. Also they had 
left their mortal garments behind them in the river ; for, though 
they went in with them, they came out without them. They 
therefore went up here with much agility and speed, though 
the foundation upon which the city was framed was higher 
than the clouds. They therefore went up through the regions 
of the air, sweetly talking as they went, being comforted because 
they safely got over the river, and had such glorious compan- 
ions to attend them. 

The talk that they had with the shining ones was about the 
glory of the place ; who told them that the beauty and glory 
of it was inexpressible. There, said they, is the " Mount Sion, 
the heavenly Jerusalem, the innumerable company of angels, 
and the spirits of just men made perfect." You are going now, 



THE HAPPINESS OF HEAVEN 147 

said they, to the paradise of God, wherein you shall see the 
tree of life, and eat of the never-fading fruits thereof; and 
when you come there you shall have white robes given you, 
and your walk and talk shall be every day with the King, even 
all the days of eternity. There you shall not see again such 
things as you saw when you were in the lower region upon the 
earth ; to wit, sorrow, sickness, affliction, and death ; " for the 
former things are passed away." You are going now to Abra- 
ham, to Isaac, and Jacob, and to the prophets, men that God 
hath taken away from the evil to come, and that are now 
" resting upon their beds, each one walking in his righteous- 
ness." The men then asked, What must we do in the holy 
place 1 To whom it was answered, You must there receive the 
comforts of all your toil, and have joy for all your sorrow. 
You must reap what you have sown, even the fruit of all 
your prayers and tears and sufferings for the King by the way. 
In that place you must wear crowns of gold, and enjoy the 
perpetual sight and visions of the Holy One ; for there you 
shall see him as he is. There also you shall serve him con- 
tinually with praise, with shouting and thanksgiving, whom 
you desired to serve in the world, though with much difficulty, 
because of the infirmity of your flesh. There your eyes shall 
be delighted with seeing, and your ears with hearing the pleas- 
ant voice of the Mighty One. There you shall enjoy your 
friends again that are gone thither before you ; and there you 
shall with joy receive even every one that follows into the 
holy place after you. There also you shall be clothed with 
glory and majesty, and put into an equipage fit to ride out 
with the King of Glory. When he shall come with sound of 
trumpet in the clouds, as upon the wings of the wind, you 
shall come with him ; and when he shall sit upon the throne 
of judgment, you shall sit by him. Yea, and when he shall 
pass sentence upon all the workers of iniquity, let them be 
angels or men, you also shall have a voice in that judgment, 
because they were his and your enemies. Also, when he shall 
again return to the city, you shall go too with sound of trum- 
pet, and be ever with him. 



148 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Now, while they were thus drawing towards the gate, be- 
hold a company of the heavenly host came out to meet them ; 
to whom it was said by the other two shining ones, These are 
the men that have loved our Lord when they were in the world, 
and that have left all for his holy name ; and he hath sent us 
to fetch them, and we have brought them thus far on their de- 
sired journey, that they may go in and look their Redeemer in 
the face with joy. Then the heavenly host gave a great shout, 
saying, " Blessed are they that are called to the marriage-sup- 
per of the Lamb." There came out also at this time to meet 
them several of the King's trumpeters, clothed in white and 
shining raiment, who, with melodious noises and loud, made 
even the heavens to echo with their sound. These trumpeters 
saluted Christian and his fellow with ten thousand welcomes 
from the world ; and this they did with shouting and sound of 
trumpet. 

This done, they compassed them round on every side. 
Some went before, some behind, and some on the right hand, 
and some on the left, as 't were to guard them through the 
upper regions, continually sounding as they went, with melo- 
dious noise, in notes on high, so that the very sight was to 
them that could behold it as if heaven itself was come down 
to meet them. Thus, therefore, they walked on together; 
and, as they walked, ever and anon these trumpeters, even 
with joyful sound, would, by mixing their music with looks 
and gestures, still signify to Christian and his brother how 
welcome they were into their company, and with what glad- 
ness they came to meet them. And now were these two men, 
as 't were, in heaven before they came at it, being swallowed up 
with the sight of angels, and with hearing of their melodious 
notes. Here also they had the city itself in view ; and they 
thought they heard all the bells therein to ring, to welcome 
them thereto. But, above all, the warm and joyful thoughts 
that they had about their own dwelling there with such com- 
pany, and that for ever and ever, oh ! by what tongue or pen 
can their glorious joy be expressed % Thus they came up to 
the gate. 



THE PILGRIMS ENTER THE CITY 149 

Now when they were come up to the gate, there was written 
over it, in letters of gold, "Blessed are they that do his com- 
mandments, that they may have right to the tree of life, and 
may enter in through the gates into the city." 

Then I saw in my dream that the shining men bid them 
call at the gate ; the which when they did, some from above 
looked over the gate, to wit, Enoch, Moses, and Elijah, etc., to 
whom it was said, These pilgrims are come from the City of 
Destruction, for the love that they bear to the King of this 
place j and then the pilgrims gave in unto them each man his 
certificate, which they had received in the beginning. Those, 
therefore, were carried in to the King, who, when he had read 
them, said, Where are the men 1 To whom it was answered, 
They are standing without the gate. The King then com- 
manded to open the gate, "that the righteous nation," said 
he, "that keepeth the truth may enter in." 

Now I saw in my dream that these two men went in at the 
gate ; and lo ! as they entered they were transfigured ; and 
they had raiment put on that shone like gold. There was 
also that met them with harps and crowns, and gave them to 
them ; the harps to praise withal, and the crowns in token of 
honor. Then I heard in my dream that all the bells in the 
city rang again for joy, and that it was said unto them, "Enter 
ye into the joy of your lord" I also heard the men them- 
selves, that they sang with a loud voice, saying, "Blessing, 
honor, glory, and power, be to him that sitteth upon the throne, 
and unto the lamb, for ever and ever." 

Now, j ust as the gates were opened to let in the men, I 
looked in after them, and behold the city shone like the sun. 
The streets also were paved with gold ; and in them walked 
many men, with crowns on their heads, palms in their hands, 
and golden harps, to sing praises withal. There were also of 
them that had wings ; and they answered one another without 
intermission, saying, Holy, holy, holy is the Lord. And after 
that they shut up the gates ; which, when I had seen, I wished 
myself among them. 

Now, while I was gazing upon all these things, I turned my 



150 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

head to look back, and saw Ignorance come up to the river 
side ; but he soon got over, and that without half that dif- 
ficulty which the other two men met with. For it happened 
that there was then in that place one Vain- Hope, a ferryman, 
that with his boat helped him over. So he, as the other, I 
saw did ascend the hill, to come up to the gate. Only he 
came alone ; neither did any man meet him with the least en- 
couragement. When he was come up to the gate, he looked 
up to the writing that was above, and then began to knock, 
supposing that entrance should have been quickly adminis- 
tred to him ; but he was asked by the men that lookt over 
the top of the gate, Whence come you 1 and what would you 
have ? He answered, I have eat and drank in the presence of 
the King; and he has taught in our streets. Then they 
asked him for his certificate, that they might go in and show 
it to the King. So he fumbled in his bosom for one, and found 
none. Then said they, Have you none 1 but the man answered 
never a word. So they told the King ; but he would not come 
down to see him, but commanded the two shining ones that 
conducted Christian and Hopeful to the city to go out and take 
Ignorance, and bind him hand and foot, and have him away. 
Then they took him up, and carried him through the air to the 
door that I saw in the side of the hill, and put him in there. 
Then I saw that there was a way to hell even from the gate of 
heaven, as well as from the City of Destruction. So I awoke, 
and behold it was a dream. 



THE CONCLUSION 151 



THE CONCLUSION 

Now, reader, I have told rny dream to thee, 
See if thou canst interpret it to me, 
Or to thyself, or neighbor. But take heed 
Of misinterpreting ; for that, instead 
Of doing good, will but thyself abuse. 
By misinterpreting, evil ensues. 

Take heed, also, that thou be not extreme 

In playing with the outside of my dream ; 

Nor let my figure or similitude 

Put thee into a laughter, or a feud. 

Leave this for boys and fools ; but as for thee 

Do thou the substance of my matter see. 

Put by the curtains ; look within my veil ; 
Turn up my metaphors ; and do not fail 
There, if thou seekest them, such things to find 
As will be helpful to an honest mind. 

What of my dross thou findest there, be bold 
To throw away, but yet preserve the gold. 
What if my gold be wrapped up in ore ? 
None throws away the apple for the core. 
But if thou shalt cast all away as vain, 
I know not but 't will make me dream again. 



NOTES 

I. Note on Books of Reference. 

The most important book for most purposes is John Bunyan, His 
Life, Times, and Work, by John Brown, B.A., Minister of the Church 
at Bunyan Meeting, Bedford (Boston and New York, Houghton, 
Mifflin & Co., 1885, pp. xii-498). This is sufficient in itself, 
and is the only thorough and original study of the facts. The 
Life by Canon Venables {Great Writers Series, London, 1888) has a 
valuable bibliography and a convenient chronological list of works. 
For the rest, it is based mainly, like the same author's article in the 
Dictionary of National Biography, on Brown. Froude's Life {English 
Men of Letters Series') is interesting, but rather shallow. 

Of essays on Bunyan, by far the best known is Macaulay's (see any 
complete collection of his essays). Macaulay's comment on Bunyan's 
style is more valuable than his interpretation of Bunyan's religious 
experiences. The latter may be corrected, for teachers interested in 
psychology, by Professor Koyce's study cited above in the Intro- 
duction. Coleridge has an essay in Literary Remains. Lang's re- 
flections (Essays in Little) are trifling. Woodberry's Three Men of 
Piety (Studies in Letters and Life) repays close attention. But by 
far the best collateral reading for a comprehension of the spirit of 
The Pilgrim's Progress is Bunyan's own Grace Abounding. 

A facsimile reprint of the first edition of The Pilgrim's Progress was 
published by Elliot Stock in London, 1875. A variorum edition, 
collating all the additions and variations made by Bunyan succes- 
sively in the eleven editions published during his life, was made for 
the Hanserd Knollys Society by George Offor, and published in 
London, 1847. 

The frequent references and allusions to the Bible, which many 
editions indicate by marginal notes, may be traced readily enough 
with the aid of a concordance. 

The violent changes, political and religious, of Bunyan's time can 
be comprehended only from standard histories. Some of the graphic 
passages in Macaulay's history may effectively be read aloud in class. 



154 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Special studies are too numerous even to mention; but Dr. John 
Tulloch's English Puritanism and its Leaders (Cromwell, Milton, 
Baxter, Bunyan) is both popular and substantial. Since wars and 
politics meant little to Bunyan, attention had better be fixed on the 
social aspects. 

For the study of Bunyan's language references are made in the 
following sections. 



NOTES 155 



II. Notes on Bunyan's Grammar. 

The irregularities of Bunyan's grammar are due largely to his fol- 
lowing colloquial use instead of literary use (page xxv). Any living 
tongue is undergoing perpetual slight modifications. Changes were 
more rapid in the centuries before the printing press ; for the mass 
of men using a language in those centuries had no other standard than 
the speech of their neighbors. So there was often a broad difference 
between the usage of scholars in books and the usage of common peo- 
ple in speech. Growing languages tend away from book standards and 
toward actual spoken use. What is colloquial to-day may become 
literary in the next generation. The Latin that passed on into mod- 
ern French, Spanish, and Italian was not literary Latin. That died. 
It was the colloquial Latin of the legionary soldiers, vulgar Latin, 
"Low Latin." 

So soon as the printing press put books into the hands of the peo- 
ple this process was checked. The breach between literary usage 
and common usage was bridged. It was bridged, not filled. There 
will always be a difference between spoken use and written use. 
There is to-day ; much more was there in Bunyan's day, when books 
were comparatively few, common schooling did not go very far, and 
there were no newspapers. And Bunyan himself, though he could 
and did read, was educated in language not so much by books as 
by conversation. His usage, then, is quite different from that of 
scholars like Milton. It is colloquial; and, being colloquial, it is 
irregular, changing as spoken language changes, showing both old 
and new on the same page, and not distinctly conscious of the rules 
of syntax. 

Doubtless Bunyan wrote somewhat more correctly, that is, some- 
what more in conformity to literary standards like Milton's, than he 
talked — but not much. The first edition of The Pilgrim's Progress 
is full of what we call bad grammar. Living to see his book through 
eleven editions, he gradually corrected many of these colloquial forms. 
Perhaps more learned friends pointed them out to him. But many 
others remain. Most of them have been corrected in modern edi- 
tions. In this edition they stand, so far as possible, as he left them. 
Therefore a tabular view of his use of words and constructions will 
show more nearly than would be possible with other authors what 
actual common English was in his time. It was full of survivals 
from earlier times ; and these give us interesting comparisons with 
the language of Shakespeare and even of Chaucer. It was full also 
of new forms ; and these often forecast the progress of the language. 



156 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

No one should be surprised, therefore, to find throughout the follow- 
ing tables signs of wavering or double usage ; for these are among 
the signs of actual life and growth. 

For the teacher's private study, comparisons may profitably be 
made of almost all the cases cited below, by consulting Abbott 's 
Shakespearian Grammar, and Elementary Lessons in Historical English 
Grammar, Kellner's Historical Outlines of English Syntax, and more 
special works like Baldwin's Inflections and Syntax of Malory's Morte 
cV Arthur. 

The numbers in parenthesis refer to the pages of this book. 

Notjns. 

1. The possessive (genitive) case is printed in the earlier editions 
sometimes with the apostrophe, sometimes without; and a third form 
is found occasionally: "a book of Jesus his inditing" (130). 

2. A collective expression, though plural, may be used with a sin- 
gular article or (pronoun: "an hundred pounds" (129). This is a 
survival of earlier use ; and is not unknown to-day. 



Adjectives and Adverbs. 

1. The superlative -est is added, as in Shakespeare, even to the 
longer adjectives: " excellentest " (7), " dreadfullest " (57). 

2. Other sometimes keeps the older plural other, as in Shakespeare 
and the English Bible: " The other replied " (86). 

3. The use of an adjective as a plural noun (the rich, the great, 
etc.) is common to-day. Bunyan sometimes uses it similarly in the 
singular: "the wise" (man) (83). 

4. The use of adverbs and the use of predicate adjectives are appar- 
ently confused: " walk solitarily (12) ; spoke plainer (104); " looked 
ugly upon them " (107). This last is the regular use of the time 
with words in -ly } which keep the same form as adjectives or as 
adverbs. 

5. Certain short adjectives were regularly used then (and some are 
now) without change as adverbs. Such are sore, hard, scarce, fair. 
Bunyan sometimes adds -ly: ll hardly beset" (82). 

6. Other adjectives appear freely as adverbs without change: 
"wonderful well" (71), "new erected" (83), "extraordinary zeal- 
ous " (96), " damnable hard " (110), " excellent good " (120). This 
use is familiar in Shakespeare. 



NOTES 157 



Pronouns. 

1. His is still used as genitive of both he and it : "Every fat must 
stand upon his own bottom " (38). 

2. Himself is sometimes used alone as subject: " Himself hath shut 
me up" (35). On the other hand, the reflexive idea is expressed 
either by compounds with self or by simple personal pronouns : 
" They were not able to help themselves or to turn them upon the 
floor (106)." 

3. The dative still shows some vitality: "cried him mercy " (67). 
Compare, u I shewed them others;" i. e., to others (4); but, on the 
other hand, " tell to Christian " (35). 

4. The cases are sometimes confused : "Let thee and I go" (125), 
" who to compare them to " (102). 

(a) In all these points Bunyan is merely like the literature of his 
time; but in the last he goes further toward popular freedom : " of 
them shepherds " (124), "all them are such as he " (Mr. Badman). 
Doubtless his manuscripts would show more instances of this, as of 
the " you was " which is not uncommon even in his print. 

5. Whether survives as interrogative : " whether is best " (107). 

6. The which and that (=what) are common as relatives: "hold 
fast that you have" (82). 

7. An older use of what (" what by one thing and what by another," 
49) is related to a still less familiar use found in Mr. Badman : " such 
are also, what may be, kept out of evil company; " and " estranging 
their children what they can." 

8. The correlation such ... as is expressed also by such . . . which 
and such . . . that. 

9. The omission of relatives is freer than in modern literary use: 
"there are many ways butt down upon this " (28). 

10. There is one case of the ellipsis of an indefinite antecedent : 
"There was also (some) that met them with harps (149). This is 
like the Latin construction sunt qui. 



Verbs: Inflections. 

1. In the third person singular -es(-s) is far more common than -eth ; 
but both may occur in the same sentence : " getteth him a . . . cudgel 
and goes" (106). 

2. Verbs in -er and -en often, but not always, omit the -e before any 
inflectional ending : threatned, threatning, entred and entered, wondred 
and wondered, thundred, lightned, hearkning, hindreth, ministreth, etc. 



158 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

3. Verbs in -s,-sh,-ch,-p, and -k sometimes, but not always, make a 
preterit in -t instead of -ed: kist, dasht, prest, stript, suckt, stopt, stept, 
catcht, k?wckt, crusht, prickt, mist. Here the spelling indicates the 
pronunciation. The participle is less frequently made in the same 
way. 

4. Occasionally Bunyan has an abbreviated participle from a verb 
in -t: discontent (30), acquit (136). Alienate (140), like some of the 
similar participles in Shakespeare, suggests the influence of the Latin 
-atus. Bunyan may have caught this from the Bible. 

5. The strong verbs, in the main, are as at present. The main 
difference is in the confusion between preterit inflection and par- 
ticiple inflection (see Lounsbury's English Language, pages 420- 
428), which persisted in literature for several centuries, and is heard 
even now in common speech. Thus begun and sunk appear as pre- 
terits ; began, drank, and took, as participles. 

6. Participles like beat, broke, forgot, spoke, writ, where present use 
has -en, were common long after Bunyan, and are now sometimes 
admitted in verse. 

7. Very few of Bunyan's forms are obsolete : brast (57, " Sighs 
and groans brast " is the reading of the first edition), preterit of burst ; 
strook (67), preterit of strike ; occasionally sate, but usually sat ; brake, 
spake, and sware, from break, speak, and swear. 

8. Bid (command) almost always makes both preterit and parti- 
ciple bid. Bidden occurs (109, 131); bade seems not to occur. 

9. Bunyan makes a strong participle loaden (37) from the weak 
verb load, probably after the analogy of laden. 

10. The defective verb wit (31) has preterit wotted (21. The first 
edition has wot) instead of wist. Wot is properly present indicative, 
as in the English Bible. 

Verbs: The Infinitive. 

1. Now-a-days the infinitive appears without to only in certain 
definite constructions (e. g., after the auxiliaries, can, will, etc.), and 
in those always. In Bunyan's time there was considerably more 
latitude, to being omitted sometimes where we should insert it, and 
vice versa: "Then he asked her what he had best to do" (106). 
"Peter upon a time would go try" (121). 

2. For to is occasionally used instead of to : " The danger of going 
back might be much more than for to go forward " (60). 

3. The infinitive is often used as object in cases where later use 
prefers the verbal in -ing: "he cannot abide to see us stand" (135) ; 
"left off to watch" (34). 



NOTES 159 

4. The familiar infinitive of result after such, so, etc., commonly 
occurs without the intervening as: "so loving ... to receive" (46; 
i. e., as to receive) ; " such fools to go " (95) ; but " so deserving as 
to turn us out of the way " (99). 

5. In such cases, instead of the regular present infinitive, seven- 
teenth-century English very often uses a form with have : " I would 
not have been so base to have given out" (18; i. e., as to give out). 

6. This confusion of tenses is often heard in careless speech to-day. 
The idea of past time, already expressed in the main verb, is repeated 
in the infinitive. In Bunyan it is more common in all connections 
than the regular present infinitive : " thought that the mountain 
would have fallen " (27 ; i. e., would fall) ; "needed not to have trod 
(43; i. e., to tread). So to-day " I should have liked to have been 
there" is not uncommon colloquially, though condemned by the 
grammars. That it is due not merely to confusion of tenses, but also 
to an extension of the use of have as auxiliary, is suggested by such 
survivals as "we did not imagine . . . that this fine-spoken man 
had been (i. e., was) he" (124, where had is historically the preterit 
subjunctive). 

Verbs: The Subjunctive. 

1. The subjunctive in Bunyan's time, on the one hand, was kept in 
certain uses where to-day it has been abandoned ; and, on the other 
hand, it was often neglected in uses where to-day it is usually kept. 
In a word, even literary usage was not settled. 

2. One of the few cases in which the subjunctive is regularly used 
to-day is the "unreal condition," or "condition contrary to fact." 
Thus we still mark a distinction between "if it was," where we 
mean to express uncertainty as to whether it was or not, and " if it 
were," where we mean to imply that it was not. But even literary 
use in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, and part of the nine- 
teenth, disregarding this distinction, quite often used the indicative 
indifferently for both. Thus in Mr. Badman Bunyan misquotes the 
Bible : " better that a millstone was hanged about his neck " (for 
"were hanged "). So "if his mind was changed, he would be other- 
wise " (141). 

3. On the other hand, simple conditional sentences usually have 
the subjunctive (compare § 5). A sentence like the following is ex- 
ceptional : " He cannot be savingly known unless God . . . reveals 
him " (137). We should expect, from the general literary use of the 
time, "reveal." 

4. In like manner, clauses with lest, which usually took the sub- 



160 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

juiictive, occasionally show the indicative: " lest the man . . . 
overtake" (125); but " Lest they ... his prisoners are" (110). 

5. Temporal clauses looking to the future follow the usage of con- 
ditional clauses (§ 3) : "You will never mend till more of you be 
burned " (62) ; but " may . . . cast him into prison till he shall pay " 
(129). 

6. The conditional idea may be expressed, as of old and to-day, 
without a conditional conjunction: " But beg and do what he could, 
he went . . . with many a hungry belly " (117). 

8. See the notes below on may, have, and shall, under Auxiliaries. 



Verbs : Auxiliaries. 
be 

1. Be is sometimes used in the indicative plural : " ye be utter 
strangers" (115). 

2. Verbs of coming, going, and the like, regularly use be as their 
auxiliary: "was come" (12), "are once got in" (18), "is grown" 
(62) , " be arrived " (82). But have is used also : " have gone " (82), 
" had passed " (86). 

have 

1. A vulgar confusion still heard appears in " would have had you 
a sought " (27). 

2. The preterit subjunctive had (anciently hadde), which survives 
to-day in had rather, is used regularly in unreal conditions (condi- 
tions contrary to fact): " I do not know what had (i. e., would have) 
become of me, had not Evangelist happily met me" (27). "Into 
that quag King David once did fall, and had no doubt therein been 
smothered, had not He that is able pluckt him out " (59). 

may 

Might is regularly used in elliptical conditional clauses like the 
following : " His laborers . . . have . . . been employed about this 
patch of ground, if perhaps it might have been mended" (17 ; i. e., to 
see if perhaps, in the hope that it might) ; " went to them if per- 
ad venture he might awake them" (38) ; " I did . . . look out if 
perhaps I might mend myself" (54). 

must 

Must is both present and preterit : " After, he went to the iron 
gate ; for that must be opened too " (110) ; i. e., had to be opened. 



NOTES 161 



shall and will 



1. Our present distinctions between shall {should) and will (would) 
are not found in Shakespeare (for earlier use, see Baldwin's Inflec- 
tions and Syntax of Malory's Morte d' Arthur, pages 91-105) or in 
Bunyan. The original senses/ of these words are more largely ap- 
parent; and, on the other hand, either might apparently be used in 
almost any application common to the other. 

2. "How far is it thither'?" (Ill) asks Christian ; and the shep- 
herds reply: " Too far for any but those that shall (i. e., are to, are 
destined to) get thither indeed." This survival of the original sense 
of shall is more familiar to us in the preterit should. In Bunyan's 
use of should it is still plainer : " to take the name of him that should 
enter in " (33 ; i. e., was to, was destined to). 

3. The original sense of will has been kept more distinctly through 
the centuries. " Neither will it (go) out of my mind " (98) is com- 
mon to-day. But in Bunyan's time it is equally plain in would: 
" he would have had (wished to have) the Holy Ghost " (98) ; " when 
the morning was come they would know (wished to know) how he 
did " (12) ; " Prudence would accompany him " (53). " The governor 
of them would have him stay " (31) is subjunctive, like the modern 
French voudrait. 

4. The familiar modern use of would to express habit or custom is 
very old: " he would be often reading " (40) ; "he would always be 
condemning my way" (90). But Bunyan also uses should in the 
same sense : " Yea, once I heard he should say, ' We despaired ' " 
(121) : " It would come into my mind again; and then I should be 
as bad " (128). Though this is not common in The Pilgrim/ s Progress, 
it is habitual in Grace Abounding. 

5. Nor is there any general distinction between shall (should) and 
will (would) based on the person of the subject. It is no great exag- 
geration to say that in most senses either auxiliary may be found in 
any person: "whoso looks well will see those scars . . . that shall 
easily give demonstration (120. Compare § 2 above). Who could 
have thought that this path should have led us out of the way 1 " (104). 
"I would have spoke plainer, but that — " (104). In most such 
cases we discern, not any distinction according to persons, but some 
survival of an earlier application of the original sense of the verb. 



Prepositions. 

Bunyan's use of prepositions, where it is now obsolete, is almost 
always a survival for which parallels may readily be found in earlier 

11 



162 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

literature. (A convenient table will be found in Baldwin's Inflec- 
tions and Syntax of Malory's Morte d' Arthur, pages 108-128.) The 
following are the most common : — 

after : " after this burdened manner " (18). We still say " after 
a fashion." 

at: "came at the slough " (27 ; i. e., to). 

by : "I perceive by thee . . . thou art but for a brush " (119). 

for : " he told me I should possess the brave country alone for 
him" (27; i.e., so far as he was concerned). 

into: " instruct you into (i. e., in) our law " (90). 

of: "heavy of sleep " (126); "denied myself of things " '50) , 
" mist o/that good " (117). 

on (a): " set him on work " (64) ; " the heavens were on i burning 
flame " (35 ; i.e., aflame) ; " agone " (83). 

to : " putting to all his strength " (63. This is the original adverbial 
use of to, as in our modern " to and fro," " come to " from a swoon, 
etc.); "a pretty young man to his son" (20); "send for thy wife 
. . . to thee " (21). 

upon: "I am upon my life" (63); "put him upon selling" 
(118); "sat upon them " (85 ; a legal phrase still in use). 

with: "his house was maintained with . . • duties" (66); 
"frighted with the sight of the lions" (43). 

Conjunctions. 

(See also the following sections on sentence strr icture.) 

but (a) =that . . . not : " We could not think . . . but they would 
. . . pull us to pieces " (42). " I see no reason but a man may do 
this " (96). " I know not but some other enemy may be at hand " 
(58) . The essence of this construction is the use of but as a preposi- 
tion (= except, without) with the whole following clause as a noun. 
Quite similar are: " He had not run far . . . bat his wife . . . be- 
gan to cry " (13) ; " had not journeyed far but the river and the way 
for a time parted " (103). 

but (b) = if . . . not : "strain hard but they will kill you" (82); 
" it shall go hard but they will throw up his heels " (120) ; "a hun- 
dred to one but he dies there " (100). 

but that is used in the same connections: (a) " I see no reason but 
that this may be lawfully done " (97) ; (b) " You cannot think but 
that you know something, what a nattering tongue she had" (65). 

except as conjunction (= unless) : '" he will soon be sick of your 
company too, except God shall touch his heart " (76). 



NOTES 163 

so is used to introduce conditions: "I find not that I am denied 
the use ... so I no abuse put " (7). 

so be is used in the same sense : " I care not what I meet with in 
the way, so be I can also meet with deliverance " (20). 

than (conjunction) is distinguished in spelling from then (adverb) 
only in modern reprints of Bunyan's works . 

that is used to introduce clauses of result (= so that) : "thundred 
and lightned in most fearful wise, that it put me into an agony " 
(35). 

that added to any preposition indicates its use as a conjunction. 
So we have for that (11), by that (28), but that (see § a under but). 
Some conjunctions make the same addition: "He could not be silent 
long, because that his trouble increased" (11). 

As has been explained, the essence of this construction is the use 
of a preposition with a noun clause. In time the that drops away 
from familiar combinations, leaving the former preposition to act as 
a full-fledged conjunction. Bunyan uses both forms, with that and 
without, on the same page (e. g., because on the same page as because 
that, quoted above) ; and the double usage lingers in modern collo- 
quial use, especially in but that. 



Sentence Structure. 

(See also the preceding sections under Conjunctions). 

1. Nicety of sentence structure, being a matter of logic, has never 
become habitual in any language until the people using the language 
have developed their prose in a literature of thought. Early litera- 
ture is a literature of feeling. Usually it is poetry. Some centuries 
of civilization may elapse before prose is brought to conscious and 
accurate form in a literature of thought, a literature of reflection, such 
as we have in essays. The essay, therefore, is a modern form. As 
essays and other reflective pieces become common, their careful sen- 
tences set a standard which gradually becomes binding on all who 
write prose. Whereas in the earlier stages of the language sentences 
may have been put together by loose additions, later usage requires 
more logical subordination. In early prose most sentences are com- 
pound, because the compound form is easiest, because it requires no 
reflection. Complex sentences are a mark of higher intellectual de- 
velopment. And other matters of sentence structure, even some mat- 
ters that we to-day think of as merely points of correctness in grammar, 
appear less and less necessary in writing, the further we go back in 
history. 



164 ' THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Now in all such matters the oral use of common speech lags be- 
hind the written use of scholars. Even to-day, when the difference 
between oral use and written use is much less marked than in 
times when books were not common, we admit in daily speech con- 
structions that we should not call correct in writing. We call them 
colloquial. We do not write them ; but we speak them. Much 
more, then, we expect, and we find, in Bunyan many constructions 
that to-day are incorrect and many others that are at least very loose. 
For the written prose of Bunyan's time was less highly developed 
than ours ; and the spoken prose, which was what he followed (pages 
xxiii-xxv), was still further behind. 

2. The distinction between a sentence and a clause, which is a 
commonplace of our modern grammar, was felt much less distinctly 
in the seventeenth century. Where seventeenth-century writers 
pretty evidently intended to begin a new sentence they quite often 
used a relative instead of a demonstrative, which instead of that, 
wherefore instead of therefore, etc. And sometimes it is hard to tell 
whether they intended the following group of words as a sentence or 
as a clause. Bunyan, of course, used in this the latitude of his time. 
One of his paragraphs (16) begins : " Wlierefore Christian was left 
... in the slough . . . but still he endeavored to struggle to that 
side . . . that was still further from his own house, and next to the 
wicket-gate; the which he did, but could not get out," etc. To-day 
we should have begun with therefore, put a period after gate, and 
begun again, " This he did," etc. Similar instances abound. 

3. This vagueness as to what we now call sentence unity opened 
the way in Bunyan's case for many loose colloquial co-ordinations : 
" Why truly I do not know what had become of me there, had not 
Evangelist happily met me . . . ; but 't was God's mercy that he 
came ... for else I had never come hither ; but now I am come 
. . . ; but Oh ! what a favour is this to me, that yet I am ad- 
mitted ! " (27). Punctuation was not yet settled; but no punctua- 
tion could make that combination seem logical. It suggests both the 
stammering haste of Christian's emotion and Bunyan's way of writing 
as he heard people talk. 

4. Naturally, therefore, Bunyan's sentences are often incoherent. 
Forgetting or ignoring the construction with which he started, he 
would leave it unfinished, to run into another : " This man then 
meeting with Christian, and having some inkling of him (for Chris- 
tian's setting forth . . . was much noised abroad, not only in the 
town where he dwelt, but also it began to be town talk in some 
other places) — Master Worldly Wiseman, therefore, having some 
guess of him . . . began thus to enter into some talk with Chris- 



NOTES 165 

tian" (18). Here not only is the first construction left unfinished, 
but the long parenthesis that threw it out is itself incoherent. 

5. Certain typical cases of Bunyan's incoherence in syntax have 
survived in vulgar speech: 

(a) double negative : " I am made to tread those steps thrice over 
which I needed (not) to have trod but once " (43). 

(b) disagreement in number between subject and predicate. In the 
first edition you was is as common as among the ignorant to-day. 
Later editions, which corrected most of those cases, left such others 
as the following: " At this fair there is at all times to be seen jug- 
glings, cheats., games," etc. (83). " When does our thoughts . . . 
agree 1 " (134). Students of Shakespeare will recall, in The Merchant 
of Venice (I. iii.) " whose own hard dealings teaches them suspect." 

(c) confusion of tense: "He would have had you a (i.e., have) 
sought " (27). See sections 5 and 6 under Infinitive above. 

(cl) confusion of case. See section 4 under Pronouns. 



166 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 



III. Notes on Passages. 

(These notes are both for explanation and for suggestion. The numbers 
refer to the pages of this book. For unfamiliar words, see the Glossary, 
page 180.) 

1. For the title, see the note on page 8, below. 

3. Chapter XI of Brown's Life of Bunyan explains fully the circum- 

stances in which The Pilgrim'' s Progress was composed . Bunyan ' s 
first imprisonment (1660-1672) was in the Bedford county jail. 
As Dr. Brown inferred, and as has since been proved by the dis- 
covery of the warrant, there was a second imprisonment of six 
months (1675-1676) in the town jail on Bedford bridge. There 
and then, not during the earlier and longer imprisonment, he 
most probably wrote his great book. It was first published in 
1678, having been entered at Stationer's Hall in 1677. 
I, writing of the way 
And race of saints in this our gospel day. 
The book referred to is probably The Strait Gate (1676). 

allegory. Investigate this word, and write a definition with 
instances. 

crown; atypical instance of Bunyan's homeliness (see page xxiv). 
What difference in effect would be produced by the substitution 
of some other word ; e.g., head or mind ? Note other instances 
of homeliness, and try similar substitutions. 

4. Thus I set pen to paper with delight. Is this merely a form of 

words, or do you think Bunyan really enjoyed writing ? Point 
out a passage in this book that sounds to you as if it had been 
written " with delight." Does an author's pleasure in his work 
enhance the pleasure of his readers ? How? 

having now my method by the end. What is his method ? What 
effect on the whole composition of a piece of literature naturally 
results from having a method at the start 1 Does Spenser in his 
Faery Queene seem to have his " method by the end? " Apply 
these considerations to your own writing. 

Offend you I am loath. See Notes on Grammar, Verbs, In- 
finitive, § 1. 
My end, thy good. See pages ix, x, xxxi. 

5. a pearl . . . in a toad's head. The fancy appears in many old tales. 

Compare the familiar opening of the second act of As You Like 
It (II. i. 13): 



NOTES 167 

" Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, 
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head." 
it is feigned. The objection to fiction was not confined to its use 
for religious purposes. Novels were long regarded by many people 
as frivolous, or even degrading. Defoe, who wrote for readers 
very like Bunyan's, put forth all his tales as veracious histories. 
6. pins and loops, etc. The reference is to the symbolism of the 
Jewish tabernacle and its sacrifices, as set forth in the earlier 
books of the Old Testament. 

8. direct thee to the Holy Land; i. e., it is a guide for pilgrims. In- 

vestigate in a large dictionary the words pilgrim and saunter. 
A pilgrimage to the sacred place of Palestine, and especially to 
the Holy Sepulchre, was for centuries, and to a lesser degree is 
still, an act of piety or expiation, and gave rise to not a few books, 
such as the Voyage and Travel formerly attributed to Sir John 
Mandeville. One of the occasions of the first Crusade was the mal- 
treatment of pilgrims by the Saracens. Pilgrimages were also, and 
are still, commonly made to the shrines of saints. Chaucer's 
pilgrims in the Canterbury Tales were bound for the tomb of St. 
Thomas. To-day the most popular places of pilgrimage, next to 
Jerusalem itself, are Lourdes in France and St. Anne de Beaupre 
in Canada. 

9. The Author's Apology is so far from poetry that it is not even 

good verse. Its interest is purely biographical. 
picking meat; i. e. , from nuts. 

14. a company of these craz'd-headed coxcombs. See page xi. 

17. Then I stepped to him. In this simple way Bunyan reminds us 
of the reality of the vision to himself, and increases its reality to 
us. Compare pages 28 and 33. 

20. Legality. The futility of " the works of the law " for salvation 
is frequently affirmed in the epistles of St. Paul, and was doubt- 
less confirmed in Bunyan's mind by his reading of Luther. The 
scriptural passages may be traced by referring to a concordance 
under " works of the law." 

26. Bunyan rhymes been and within, thus suggesting our American 
pronunciation. But Bunyan's rhyming is never very careful. 

30. Now whereas thou sawest. The language may have been suggested 
by that of Daniel's interpretation of Nebuchadnezzar's dream. 
See Daniel ii. 41-43. 

33. Can you see this " stately palace " in your mind 1 Compare 
other descriptions of places in The Pilgrim's Progress (e. g., pages 
53, 103, and 142). Are they specific? Can you see Bunyan's 
places as you see his people 1 Compare typical passages of de- 



168 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

scription in Spenser's Faery Queene, in Paradise Lost, or in a 
translation of Dante's Inferno. 
38. sleep on the top of a mast, a proverb. See page xxiv. " Lives like 
a drunken sailor on a mast." Richard III. (III. iv. 101). 

46. a dreadful sound . . . in mine ears. See page xviii. 

47. One . . . hang bleeding. What, then, did the Pilgrim see ? Com- 
pare page 37. 

50. of pure love to his country ; an English touch 1 

56. Professor Genung, in A Handbook of Rhetorical Analyis, page 1, 
has some notes on the diction of this passage. Observe how- 
many of the words are old and familiar. 

60. blasphemies . . . which he thought proceeded from his own mind. 
This was one of the worst mental tortures suffered by Bunyan 
himself, and is vividly described in Grace Abounding. 

61. fear none ill. The King James Bible and the Book of Common 

Prayer both translate " fear no evil." Bunyan's quotations fre- 
quently show minor inaccuracies of this kind. Compare the 
long quotation from Job at page 121 with the King James 
version. Doubtless Bunyan quoted habitually from memory. 

66. It came burning hot into my mind. The vivid expression is like 
many in Grace Abounding. See pages xvii, xviii, xxii. 

78. experimental confession, etc., Puritan terms. See page xi. 

83. Vanity Fair. Investigate in a large dictionary the origin and 
history of the word fair. Which of its present uses, the one 
typified by church fair or the one typified by World's Fair, is 
nearer to the original 1 The successive variations of this word 
give a good view of the progress of language. Now read in a 
cyclopedia the article fairs, in order to find what a fair was in 
Bunyan's time. What is the nearest modern American parallel 
that you have seen ? The particular fair that Bunyan very pro- 
bably had in mind was the great fair in his own neighborhood, 
the one at Sturbridge, near Cambridge (Brown's Bunyan, page 
270). 

Vanity Fair has become a proverbial expression. Thackeray 
uses it as the title of his great novel. Why ? 

84. The language of Canaan. See page xi. 

86-91. charged — remanded — arraigned — indictment — evidence — 
etc. Observe the legal terms in this account, and find their 
specific meanings. Bunyan was sadly familiar with such pro- 
cesses of law. Compare his account, appended to Grace Abound- 
ing, of his own arraignment and trial in 1660-1661. 

95-98. Mr. By-Ends and the case he propounds are typical and sig- 
nificant for any time, but especially for that time of rapid and 



NOTES 169 

radical changes. Frequently as the ordinances of religion shifted 
from the time of Henry VIII. to the time of William, some men 
managed to keep abreast for the sake of their benefices. For 
example, one Simon Aleyn, Canon of Windsor, is said to have 
remained Vicar of Bray from 1540-1588 by supporting the 
papacy under Henry VIII. until the King's breach with the 
Pope, the Protestant party under Edward VI., the papacy again 
under Mary, and the Protestants again under Elizabeth. Whether 
the story is historically accurate or not, it was felt to be so sub- 
stantially true that a trimmer came to be called proverbially a 
Vicar of Bray. The proverb went, " The Vicar of Bray will be 
Vicar of Bray still." In time, probably in the eighteenth cen- 
tury, the tradition was embodied in a popular satirical song (see 
Chappell's Popular Music of the Olden Time, volume ii., page 
652). The first three stanzas make a lively commentary on Mr. 
By-Ends and his friends, and a no less lively contrast to Bun- 
yan's own attitude : — 

THE VICAR OF BRAY. 

In good King Charles's golden days, 
When loyalty no harm meant, 
A zealous high -church man was I, 

And so I got preferment. 
To teach my flock I never missed 
Kings were by God appointed ; 
And damned are those that dare resist, 
Or touch the Lord's anointed. 

And this is law that I'll maintain 

Unto my dying day, sir, 

That, whatsoever King may reign, 

Still I'll be the Vicar of Bray, sir. 

When royal James obtained the crown, 

And popery grew in fashion, 

The penal laws I hooted down, 

And read the Declaration. 

The Church of Rome I found would fit 

Full well my constitution ; 

And I had been a Jesuit 

But for the Revolution. 

And this is law, etc. 

When William was our King declared, 
To ease the nation's grievance, 



170 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

With this new wind about I steered, 
And swore to him allegiance. 
Old principles I did revoke, 
Set conscience at a distance. 
Passive obedience was a joke ; 
A jest was non-resistance. 
And this is law, etc. 

So the song goes on, perhaps by latter additions, with the reigns 
of Anne and George I, ending with the words : 

And George my lawful King shall be 
Until the times do alter. 

And this is law, etc. 

97. The case of the tradesman is worked out at length in Bunyan's 
Life arid Death of Mr Badman. 

106. a very dark dungeon. It is not necessary to suppose that Bun- 
yan's own imprisonment was of this sort. There is no record 
of his being put into a dungeon. But since prisons in his time 
were generally worse places than are tolerated to-day, his may 
well have been " nasty and stinking." 

109. What is there in the telling of the episode of Giant Despair 
that makes it more exciting than any other in the book ? Is 
The Pilgrim's Progress generally more interesting to you for the 
story or for the. characters ? 

114. So I awoke. The story breaks here. Brown (Bunyan, page 
262) suggests that the rest of Part I. may have been written 
later, after Bunyan's release from prison. Is there any differ- 
ence in the method of telling the rest which makes it less 
interesting ? 

120. throw up his heels. The whole description is more like the 
actual fighting of Bunyan's day, whether in war or in village 
bouts of wrestling and single-stick, than like the combats of 

« romance. Compare it, and also the fight with Apollyon (page 
56), with a description of a combat in Malory's Morte d' Arthur 
or Spenser's Faery Queene. 

121. Heman. See 1 Kings iv. 31, and the heading in the King 
James version to Psalm lxxxviii. The reference so puzzled 
some earlier critics that they changed the name to Haman, for 
which Southey thereupon substituted Mordecai (Brown's Bun- 
yan, page 272). 

Is the quotation from Job xxxix apt ? What is its purpose 1 
143. If you see my beloved." The application is at least no more apt 
than that of Job's horse above, and no less mystical than that 



NOTES 171 

of the "clean beasts at page 75. It inevitably suggests Bunyan's 
lack of taste. See page xxv. 

With this and the description (pages 148-149) of the heavenly 
city, compare parallel passages in the Paradise Lost and Dante's 
Paradiso. 
147. perpetual sight . . . of the Holy One. " I . . . would often 
long . . . that the last day were come, that I might be for 
ever inflamed with the sight and joy and communion with Him 
whose head was crowned with thorns, whose face was spit upon, 
and body broken, and soul made an offering for my sins " 
{Grace Abounding). Of these two passages, which is the more 
moving expression? Compare pages 48 (bottom)-49 (top). 



172 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 



IV. Suggestions for First Recitations. 

[The idea is to keep biography, history, and all other collateral 
matter, subsidiary by making the book itself always the first instance. 
For preparation the pupils should be asked to read pages 11-21, and 
then to re-read with close attention the first paragraph. The ques- 
tions below are suggested as typical of an inductive method to arouse 
interest and direct it to literary aspects. They are all drawn from 
the first paragraph.] 

"wilderness of this world." What is meant by calling the world a 
wilderness ? What kind of man looks at the world so 1 Where have 
you met the idea before 1 (In fine, what does this opening mean as 
an indication of the kind, of book you may expect, and the kind of 
author ?) 

" a den." All the earlier editions have as a note in the margin 
"the jail." The teacher may tell here how the book came to be 
written in jail, but very briefly, and with a view rather to awaken 
than to satisfy curiosity. In closing, he may well say : " Bunyan 
has told the whole story of a previous imprisonment at the end of his 
Grace Abounding." 

" dreamed a dream." What, then, is this book ? Do you recall 
any other stories told as dreams ? What kind of man would natu- 
rally choose a dream as his form of expression ? (Lead the answers 
toward Bunyan's peculiar habit and power of vision, and read the 
passage quoted from " Grace Abounding," at page xviii of the Intro- 
duction.) Think of the author, then, as a dreamer, or seer. But 
in what sense 1 Is he trying to describe (as, e. g., Poe) the sensa- 
tions of dreaming ? No. What, then ? (Lead answers toward 
discerning the method of allegory or parable ; and read an instance 
from the Bible.) 

"a man standing . . . what shall I do ? " How does this help us 
to understand more fully what Bunyan means by "the wilderness 
of this world " ? Here, evidently, is the Pilgrim. The book is 
about his Progress. What is a pilgrim 1 In what sense is this man 
a pilgrim ? What is the goal of his pilgrimage or " progress " ? What 
is meant by the scriptural saying that life is a pilgrimage ? How 
many people act as if they thought it a pilgrimage ? How many of 
Christian's town believed this strongly enough to join him on his 
journey ? What does Bunyan mean to imply by this fact 1 To 
whom, then, is the book addressed, and what seems to be its pur- 



NOTES 173 

pose ? Do you see any point in closing the first paragraph with 
those words "what shall I do ?" This first paragraph, then, sounds 
the theme of the whole book, giving us an inkling of (1) its kind 
and form, (2) its purpose, (3) its author. 

Let us now see what it reveals of his style or language. How does 
the choice of words strike you 1 Does Bunyan write as if for the 
few, for people of learning, or for the many, for common people ? 
Does the language remind you of anything ? Why % (Brief hint 
of Bunyan's familiarity with the English Bible.) What does " con- 
tain " mean here ? 

(Summary.) What topics have we discussed in this recitation ? 
Since these are likely to recur, you will do well to write each one 
at the head of a page, that you may hereafter group your notes, 
instead of having to sort them out. (A note-book with detach- 
able leaves facilitates this ; but an ordinary note-book will serve, 
if the pupil repeats a heading on the first blank page each time a 
page is filled, and finally takes the book apart to rearrange.) Sum 
up connectedly (topical oral recitation) what we have learned about 
the book and the author. 

(Themes.) Hand in next time a connected account, as above, in 
writing (100-150 words). Prepare to write in class (ten minutes) 
an account of the further elucidation of these points that you get 
from reading the Author's Apology. 

(Special Assignments to Individuals, in place of the general assign- 
ment.) Write a summary of Bunyan's trial and imprisonment 
{Grace Abounding). Read aloud at home the dialogue between 
Bunyan and his judges until you can render it clearly and emphati- 
cally. Then read it in class to-morrow. Write an account of a 
mediaeval pilgrimage to Jerusalem (from specified sources). Write 
an explanation of allegory, with two examples. (Such reports are 
to be read aloud or, in some cases, spoken from notes. More are 
suggested here than could well be used at one session.) 

(Advance Assignment, to be called for one week from to-day.) 
Note from the Dictionary of National Biography any three facts of 
the life of Bunyan that seem to you important for better under- 
standing of The Pilgrim's Progress. Select only those facts whose 
bearing you can explain. (From such reports the class compiles a 
brief biography. The same method may be applied to topics of 
contemporary history). 



174 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 



V. Specimen Topics for Review or Examination.. 

1. Quote a passage exemplifying the homeliness of Bunyan's style, 
and tell whence this trait arises. 

2. Quote two proverbs from The Pilgrim's Progress, and two others 
that you have heard in colloquial use. 

3. In what respect is Bunyan's style Biblical ? 

4. Are the people in The Pilgrim's Progress common people or of 
the upper class 1 Mention any exceptions. Is there any difference 
between the good people and the bad in respect to gentility ? 

5. What is your notion of the character of Obstinate as expressed 
by his way of talking ? Describe him as you see him in your mind. 
Do the same for Demas. 

6. Compare a description of nature in The Pilgrim's Progress with 
one in The Faery Queene. Which has the more detail as to color, 
sound, smell, etc. ? Which suggests to your mental vision the clearer 
picture ? 

7. Compare a person in The Pilgrim's Progress with a similar per- 
son in The Faery Queene. Which do you see more distinctly ? Why ? 
Apply the comparison to some familiar characters in fiction. 

8. Show how the opening paragraph of The Pilgrim's Progress ex- 
presses the theme of the whole. Sum up the theme in a few words. 

9. What was Bunyan's object in writing this book ? What is his 
method of achieving this object ? Give an instance of the method as 
used by another author. 

10. What is alliteration 1 Quote an instance from The Pilgrim's 
Progress and one from another author. 

11. In what respects is Pilgrim's Progress typically English ? 

12. In what sense may Bunyan be called illiterate ? Answer by 
three instances from The Pilgrim's Progress and by some account of 
his education. 

13. Give some reasons for the popularity of The Pilgrim's Progress. 

[Questions on history.] 

14. Who were the Puritans? Mention some passages in The Pil- 
grim's Progress that suggest their ways of thinking, acting, or talking. 

15. Why was The Pilgrim's Progress especially popular among the 
colonists of New England 1 Mention any passage that they may 
have thought especially applicable to themselves. 



NOTES 175 

16. Mention two other gr3at Puritans in England, and two in 
America. Mention two other Puritan authors. 

17. Describe a religious service in Bunyan's religious community. 
How did it differ from the services of the Established Church 1 

18. On what grounds did Bunyan and his friends dissent ? What 
wa,: "he state policy that led to Bunyan's imprisonment ? 



176 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 



VI. Specimen Topics for Themes. 

(Some of these topics may be adapted to use among those of the pre- 
ceding list, and vice versa.) 

1. Write a paragraph on the popularity of The Pilgrim'' s Progress, 
telling its extent and some of its causes. 

2. Write a definition of allegory in one sentence ; a fuller defini- 
tion, with explanation and instances, in one paragraph. 

3. Compare The Pilgrim's Progress with another allegory of life as 
a pilgrimage (two hundred words). 

4. Discuss the consistency of The Pilgrim's Progress as an allegory ; 
i. e., whether the allegory is carried through clearly and naturally 
(two hundred words). 

5. Write four or five paragraphs (five hundred to seven hundred 
words) on Bunyan's use of the Bible, considering in coherent order 
some of the following : — 

(a) What translation of the Bible did Bunyan use ? When and by 
whom was it made ? Has it had much influence on English religion ? 
on English thought in general 1 on English literature ? 

(b) Does Bunyan seem usually to copy texts, or to quote from 
memory ? 

(c) In what senses is Bunyan's work Biblical 1 Mention two pas- 
sages in The Pilgrim's Progress which are derived directly from the 
Bible, and tell how the Bible is used in them. 

(d) Is Bunyan's use of the Bible like that of the Puritans of his 
time? 

(e) Compare Bunyan's use of the Bible with that of some other 
author. 

(f) Does Bunyan seem to have read the Bible as a collection of 
books, or as a collection of texts 1 Does he usually speak of books 
or of separate passages 1 

6. Write a paragraph setting forth your idea of a Puritan : what 
he believed, how he looked and acted, why he was disliked, or what 
he and his fellows accomplished. 

7. Write a paragraph of descriptive contrast between a Puritan and 
a Cavalier. 

8. Write a paragraph on The Pilgrim's Progress as a classic, defin- 
ing what you mean by classic. 

9. Write a paragraph on the simplicity of Bunyan's style. 

10. Write a paragraph on Bunyan's descriptions of scenery and 
places, comparing them with other descriptions that you admire. 



NOTES 111 

11. Write a paragraph on Bunyan's idea of heaven. 

12. Compare the description of the Valley of the Shadow of Death 
with one of Milton's descriptions (e. g., in Book I. of Paradise Lost, 
or with a description selected from Dante's Inferno). 

13. Write a character sketch of John Bunyan, not a chronological 
summary of his life, but an estimate of his character in its most strik- 
ing traits. 

14. Write a character sketch of Mr. By-Ends. 

15. Write a character sketch of some real person who reminds you 
of a person in The Pilgrim's Progress. Describe him as to looks, 
actions, attitudes, speech, etc., and then as to how he is regarded by 
his companions. 

16. Now write a dialogue between this person and a companion, 
imitating Bunyan's method, but keeping to the language of our own 
day. Try to make both these persons speak and act according to 
their characters. 

17. Compose in the language and characters of our own day a 
scene like the one between Christian and Hopeful and Mr. Demas. 
Make Mr. Demas an unprincipled stock-broker, for instance ; and 
put the scene in Wall Street. (This exercise may be applied to other 
scenes of The Pilgrim's Progress.) 

18. Write in the style of The Pilgrim's Progress the dialogue 
between Little-Faith and the robbers. 

19. Write part of the Vanity Fair chapter in the language, char- 
acters, and surroundings of our own day, setting the scene at " The 
Pike " of the St. Louis exposition, at Coney Island, in the Bowery 
of New York, Kearny Street in San Francisco, Butte in Montana, or 
some other appropriate place known to you. 



12 



178 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 



VII. Chronological Table. 



(Compiled from the lives of Bunyan by Brown and Venables, Ryland's Chronological 
Outlines of English Literature, Whitcomb's Chronological Outlines of American 
Literature, and Tillinghast's translation of Ploetz's Epitome of Ancient, Mediaeval, 
and Modern History.) 



Bunyan's Life and Works. 


Contemporary History. 


Contemporary Literature. 






1620. Plymouth Rock. 


1625. 


Bacon's Essays (final 
form). 


1628. 


Bunyan born at El- 
stow, near Bedford. 


1628. The (English) Peti- 
tion of Right. 


1631. 
1634. 


Herbert, The Temple. 
Milton : Comus (acted). 






1642-46. The (English) Civil 


1642. 


Sir Thomas Browne, 






War, or Great Re- 




Religio Medici. 






bellion. 










1643. Louis XIV. King of 










France. 


1644. 


Milton, Areopagitica. 






1645. Execution of Arch- 


1645. 


Milton's minor poems 






bishop Laud. 




published. 


1648 


or — 49. Bunyan mar- 
ried, and took a cot- 
tage at Elstow. 


1648^9. Second Civil War. 
1649. The Commonwealth. 
Charles I. executed. 


1G50. 


Taylor, Holy Living. 


1653. 


Bunyan joined the 


1653. Cromwell Lord High 


1653. 


Walton, The Complete 




Bedford Baptists. 


Protector. 


1659. 


Angler. 
Moliere, Les Preci- 
euses Ridicules. 


1660-61. Arrest, trial, and 


1660. The Restoration. 








imprisonment (till 


1661. Coronation of Charles 








1672). 


II. 

1662. Act of Uniformity. 


1663. 


Butler, Hu dibr a s, 
Part I. 






1664. Conventicles Act. 


1664. 


Butler, Hudibrai:, 






New York taken 




Part II. 






from the Dutch. 










1665. The Great Plague and 










the Great Fire in 










London. 






1666. 


Grace Abounding to 
the Chief of Sinners. 




1667. 
1668. 


Dryden, Essay of Dra- 
matic Poesy ; Milton, 
Paradise Lost. 

La Fontaine, Fables. 



NOTES 



179 



Bunyan's Life and Works. 



1672. Release from prison, 
license as a teacher, 
beginning of pastor- 
ate at Bedford. 



1675-76. Second Imprison- 
ment; The Pilgrim'' s 
Progress begun. 

1678. The Pilgrim's Prog- 
ress (Part I.) 

1680. Mr. Badman. 
1682. The Holy War. 
1684. The Pilgrim's Prog- 
ress (Part II.) 

1686. A Book for Boys and 
Girls {Divine Em- 
blems). 



1688. Bunyan died, Aug. 31. 



Contemporary History. 



1672. Declaration of Indul- 



1673. Marquette's discovery 
of the Mississippi. 



1682. Philadelphia founded. 



1685. Accession of James II. 



1687. Declaration of Indul- 

gence, Trial of the 
Bishops, The Revo- 
lution; Newton's 
Principia published. 

1688. Declaration of Wil- 

liam of Orange. 

1689. Accession of William 

and Mary, Tolera- 
tion Act. 



Contemporary Literature. 



1671. Milton, Paradise Re- 
gained, Samson 
Agonistes. 



1678. Butler, Hudibras, 
Part III. Dryden, 
All for Love. 



1687. Dryden, The Hind and 
The Panther. 



1690. Locke, An Essay con- 
cerning Human Un- 
derstanding. 



180 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 



VIII. Glossary. 

Numbers in parenthesis refer to pages of this book. References to dic- 
tionaries are as follows : — 

Century — The Century Dictionary. 

Murray — A New English Dictionary on Historical Principles. 

Skeat — Skeat's Etymological Dictionary. 

abide (v.), endure: "He cannot abide to see us stand" (135). This 
transitive use has belonged to the verb from the beginning ; but it is 
no longer common. 

Why he cannot abide a gaping pig. 

(Merch. of Venice, IV. i). 
ale-bench (sb.), a bench in or before an ale-house (73). 

amain (adv.), with all one's might (57). The derivation is a (= on, as 
in asleep) + main (an old English noun meaning might). See Murray, 
Skeat, or Century. 

"Two massy keys he bore of metals twain 
(The golden opes, the iron shuts amain)." 

(Milton, Lycidas, 111.) 

bedlam (sb.), a madman, lunatic (84, 85): "the bedlam, brainsick 
duchess" (2 Henry VI., III. i. 51). For the interesting origin of 
this word, see Murray, Skeat, or Century. 

behind (adv.), later, to come, in the future: "I went through that 
which was behind" (71); "thought there was no more behind But 
such a day to-morrow as to-day " (Winter's Tale, I. ii. 63). 

beshrew (v.), to curse, blame (19) ; often used by Shakespeare and ear- 
lier authors in expletive phrases, "beshrew him !" "beshrew me!" 
etc. ; i. e., hang him, plague on him, etc. The word is also spelled 
beshrow. Investigate the noun shrew. A shrew (in our modern sense) 
is often called in earlier literature " a curst wife." 

besides (adv.), to one side (18). 

brainsick (adj.), (14). See the quotation under bedlam, above. 

brave (adj.), distinguished, showy, vain: "What a brave companion 
have we got ! " (73) ; "Oh, that's a brave man! He writes brave 
verses, speaks brave words, swears brave oaths, and breaks them 
bravely" (As You Like It, III. iv. 43). The French adjective brave 
keeps this sense in modern use. Investigate also bravery. 

brunt (sb.), assault, attack: "meet with no more such brunts" (122). 
The plural is no longer common. 



NOTES 181 

brush (sb.), encounter: "shrewd brushes" (62); "might have stood 
one brush" (119) ; " tempt not yet the brushes of the war" (Troilus 
and Cressida, V. iii. 34). The noun is derived from the verb brush, 
to dash. See Murray. To-day it is used of trials of speed in horse- 
racing. 

butt (v.), to lead into, to abut : "many ways butt down upon this" (28). 

carriage (sb.), bearing, behavior: "surly carriages" (12, 85). Mod- 
ern use has only the singular in this sense. In Bunyan's time the 
plural was commonly used, as of the separate actions that make up 
behavior. 

catch (sb.), watch ; in the phrases at the catch, on the catch, etc. ; i. e., 
in wait, on the watch for an opportunity of catching : " You lie at the 
catch " (77, 78) ; "absolutely on the catch for a husband " (Jane Austen, 
Lady Susan, xiv). 

cheapen (v.), to buy in market, bargain, chaffer (84). The derivation 
is from the old noun cheap, from which comes also the adjective 
cheap. Investigate in Murray, Skeat, or Century, and compare the 
French phrase bon marche'. " She would make a Puritan of the devil, 
if he should cheapen a kiss of her" (Pericles, IV. vi. 10). 

cherubins (sb.), plural of cherub (15), as often in Shakespeare : "Still 
quiring to the young-eyed cherubins" (Merch. of Venice, V. 1). For 
the various plurals of this Hebrew word (cherubs, cherubim, cherubims, 
cherubin, cherubins), see Murray. 

clap (sb.), stroke ; in the phrase at a clay (95) : "What, fifty of my fol- 
lowers at a clap ?" (Lear, I. iv. 316). 

clout (sb.), cloth, rag: " swaddling- clouts" (7); "as white as a clout" 
(116). The word was common until the nineteenth century, and is 
still heard sometimes. 

congee (sb.), a formal salutation, a bow (94) ; properly a formal dis- 
missal. The derivation is through the French from the Latin 
commeatus, leave to pass. Formerly in common use, the word is 
now rare. 

consent (v.). to agree : "they consented to erect there a pillar" (110). 
In this sense the verb was more commonly intransitive, with the pre- 
position to or unto: "Saul was consenting unto his death." (Acts 
viii. 1). 

contain (v.), used intransitively, as equivalent to refrain: "not being 
able longer to contain" (11). In this intransitive use it commonly 
referred specifically to continence : "if they cannot contain, let them 
marry " (1 Corinthians, vii. 9). 

conversation (sb.), intercourse in general, dealings with men (50) ; the 
common meaning in Bunyan's time, conversation in our modern sense 



182 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

being described by the word conference. Consult a concordance to the 
Bible, and investigate also the etymology. 

countryman (sb.), a native of a (certain) country : " What countryman, 
sir ? " (92 ; i. e., of what country are you ?) ; "a couple of far country- 
men" (94). This survives in England in such phrases as a north 
countryman (i. e., a north-country man). 

cozenage (sb.), cheating, deceit, false pretence (94). See Murray or 
Century. 

design (v.), used transitively in the sense of having designs on or inten- 
tions toward : "Judas designed the world in becoming religious " (98 ; 
i. e., he had worldly designs). This use was never common, and is 
now obsolete. 

discover (v.), disclose (1, 30, 61). This meaning was the more common 
one in Bunyan's time. Investigate the etymology. Instances abound 
in the Bible and in Shakespeare. Compare the noun discovery, in the 
sense of disclosure. 

dispose (sb.) disposition : "committing themselves to the all-wise dispose 
of Him that ruleth all things " (87) ; " what the unsearchable dispose 
of highest Wisdom brings about " (Samson Agonistes, 1746). 

distemper (sb.), disease, disordered functions, or, in the language of 
earlier medicine, disturbance of the "humours" of the body: "a 
frenzy distemper" (11). No\v-a-days the word is applied only to the 
lower animals. Investigate temper in a large dictionary. 

do (v.) : "we will do him word " (100). This may be an echo of a phrase 
common in the centuries preceding Bunyan, do him wit ; i. e., cause 
him to know, let him know ; for which see Murray, 22 c, under do. 

doom (sb.), judgment, especially judgment at law (69) ; a word of much 
wider use in earlier times than now. The earlier decisions in English 
courts of law were recorded in what was called Doomsday Book. 

doubt (v.), suspect : "all which things I doubt you want" (40) ; a rare 
use of the verb. 

duty (sb.), religious exercise, attendance upon religious offices : "I have 
committed sin enough in one duty to send me to hell " (129). Murray 
(5 b. under duty) implies that this use of the word is Koman Catholic ; 
but it is not uncommon in Bunyan. 

eminent (adj.), imminent: "put thee into such eminent danger" 
(105). This, of course, is a confusion of w r ords ; but the confusion 
was not uncommon at the time. Murray traces it back even to the 
Latin originals of these words. 

engine (sb.), contrivance, machine, snare (5) : "nor did he scape By all 
his engines, but was headlong sent " (Paradise Lost, I. 750). See 
Murray, 5 c, under engine ; and compare the word gin (62). 



NOTES 183 

fair (adj.): " I "was fair for the celestial city " (34). For this sense see 
Murray (14, under fair) or Century. It is exactly paralleled in Bun- 
yan's contemporary, Baxter : ' ' How fair you are for everlasting salva- 
tion " (Call to the Unconverted, iv). Compare the common metaphor 
in a fair way, and Shakespeare's adverbial use : " Yourself, renowned 
prince, then stood as fair As any comer" (Merch. of Venice, II. 
i. 20). 

fantastical (adj.), fanciful, led astray by fancies, lacking in common 
sense: "misled fantastical fellows" (15); "a fantastical faith" 
(136) ; " ne'er a fantastical knave of them all " (As You Like It, III. 
iii. 108). 

fat (sb.), vat : " Every fat must stand upon his own bottom " (38). Con- 
sult Skeat, and find in a concordance to the Bible references under 
wine-fat. 

feud (sb.), enmity (in general): "put thee into a laughter or a, feud" 
(151). This general sense lasted longest in the phrase " without 
feud or favor." 

foil (v.), literally, to throw almost, but not quite. The term is taken from 
wrestling (compare the passage at the bottom of page 120) : "who so 
foiled and run down " (122). It is derived from the noun/<w7 (which 
see in Murray or Century), a term of wrestling used in distinction from 
a " fair fall." But it seems to be used here in a more general sense, 
as in the following : " the wrestler That did but lately foil the sinewy 
Charles" (As You Like It, III. ii. 14) ; " those armies bright, Which 
but the Omnipotent none could have foiled" (Paradise Lost, I. 273). 

fowler (sb.), a hunter of birds (5). The word foivl has become narrowed 
in meaning. See Murray or Century for fowl, and a concordance to 
the Bible for foioler. 

frenzy (adj.) : " a frenzy distemper" (11). For the use of this word as 
an adjective, see Murray or Century. 

furniture (sb.), equipment, especially military equipment, armor, etc. : 
"showed him all manner of furniture ... as sword, shield," etc. 
(52). This is the common use of the time : " Money, and order for 
their (i. e., the soldiers') furniture" (1 Henry IV., end of III.) ; so 
" All furnished, all in arms " (IV. i. 96). 

gin (sb.), snare, trap (62). See Skeat, and compare engine (5). 

go (v.), to walk, as distinct from running or riding : " fell from running 
to going, and from going to clambering " (41) ; " Ride more than thou 
goest " (Lear, I. iv. 134). Chaucer and the mediaeval romances and 
ballads often use the proverbial phrase, " whereso ye go or ride." 

good (sb), produce, fruits, in a collective sense : "the good of the place is 
before you" (111). Compare our similar use of the plural goods. Seo 
a concordance to the Bible. 



184 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

governor (sb.), master, tutor, director (31): "the heir . . . is under 
tutors and governors until the time appointed" (Galatians iv. 2.); 
' ' Commits itself to yours to be directed, As from her lord, her gov- 
ernor, her King" (Merch. of Venice, III. 2. 167.) 

harness (v.), to equip with armor (52). Harness is the usual mediaeval 
noun for armor. See Murray or Century. ' ' The children of Israel 
went up harnessed (Exodus xiii. 18). 

have (v.), to take, lead, conduct : " he had him into a private room (29, 
30, 32, 45, 111); "Have her forth without the ranges" (2 Kings xi. 
15). For other uses of have see Notes on Bunyan's Grammar : Verbs. 

hobgoblin (sb.), an evil spirit, an apparition (59, 145). See Murray, 

Century, or Skeat. 
inkhorn (sb.), a portable case for ink (33). See Ezekiel ix. 2. Why 

horn ? Investigate the origin, and note other compounds with this 

word; e.g., powder-horn. 

jump (v.), agree, coincide: I had always the luck to jump in my judg- 
ment with the present way of the times (93); "it jumps with my 
humour" (1 Henry IV., I. ii. 78). The verb is still used occasionally 
in this sense. 

leer (v.), to slink away, evade: "he leered away on the other side, as 
one ashamed (64). This unusual sense of the verb is derived by Mur- 
ray from the usual sense. It is located by the English Dialect Dic- 
tionary as belonging to Bunyan's county, Bedfordshire. The Century 
Dictionary notes a slang word leery, meaning sly. 

let (v.) hinder; "to let them in their journey " (85). This is a different 
verb from let, to permit. See Murray or Century, and a concordance 
to the Bible. Hamlet (L iv. 85) says; "I'll make a ghost of him 
that lets me." 

lie (v.), to spend the night, to camp (124). This is a natural derivative 
sense of the verb. It extends even further, to mean besiege. 

like (adj.), likely: "like to be benighted" (43); a common use of this 
century and the following, and still heard in the colloquial "as like 
as not." 

lime-twigs (sb.), twigs smeared with birdlime, a sticky substance, in 
order to catch birds (5): "like lime-twigs set to catch my winged 
soul" (2 Henry VI., III. iii. 16). Investigate birdlime. 

livelihood (sb. ), sustenance: "his livelihood was upon things that were 
spiritual" (119). Bunyan's marginal note is: "Little-Faith could 
not live upon Esau's pottage." 

manhood (sb.), valor, manliness (121, 122) : " who, with a grain of man- 
hood . . . might easily have shook off all her snares" (Samson Agonistes, 
408). 



NOTES 185 

next (adj.), nearest: " I fled the next way " (17, 115). This is the origi- 
nal sense of the word, which is a superlative. See Skeat. 

nonage (sb.), minority, period before coming of age (55). What are the 
component parts of this word ? 

original (sb.), origin, source : "their original had been the dunghill " (51); 
" we are their parents and original " (Mid. Night's Dream, II. i. 117). 

outlandish (adj.), foreign : " Some said they were . . . outlandish men " 
(84). This is the literal and original sense of the word. Compare 
the use of the word Uitlander by the Dutch in South Africa. 

own (adj.): " be their own men again" (99); i.e., be in full possession of 
their faculties, be vigorous. The phrase also means to be one's own 
master; i.e., to be independent. 

palliate (v.), satisfy, placate: "that I might them better palliate " (4); 

probably a solecism, since Murray cites only one other case where 

this verb is used with a personal object. 
perspective-glass (sb.), telescope (113). See Century under perspective. 

pillory (sb.), (86). See any large dictionary for a picture of the pillory. 

plat (sb.), plot, place, area (17), as in 2 Kings ix. 26. The usual sense 
now is map; but the words plot &xi(\ plat have not been sharply dis- 
tinguished. One hears to-day grass-plat. 

pleasant (adj.), witty, merry, cheerful, of persons (9). This sense, once 
common, is kept in our noun pleasantry. 

practick (or practic) (adj.), practical; '-'the soul of religion is the prac- 
tice part " (75); "So that the art and practic part of life must be the 
mistress to this theoric (Henry V., I. i. 51). 

professor (sb.), one who makes public profession of religion or piety (34, 
80, 116); a term common among Puritans : "This is a creature, would 
she begin a sect, might quench the zeal of all professors else " (Win- 
ter's Tale, V. i. 108). 

presently (adv.), forthwith: "to him . . . thou mayest go and be helped 
presently (20). For the shifting sense of this word, see Century, or 
compare the instances in a concordance to Shakespeare. Is there any- 
thing in the etymology to explain this shifting ? Compare a similar 
process in the word quite. 

quag (sb.), quagmire, bog (59). 

quit (v.), acquit (120), as in 1 Corinthians xvi. 13: " now quit you well 
(Lear II. i. 32); " Samson hath quit himself like Samson (Samson 
Agonistes, 1709). 

rabblement (sb.), rabble (89) : "The rabblement hooted and clapped" 
(Julius Caesar, I. ii. 245). 



186 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

rack (v.), to drive before the wind, used especially of clouds: "saw the 
clouds rack" (35); "not separated with the racking clouds" (3 
Henry VI., II. i. 26). See Murray, 1 under rack (v.), and 3 under 
rack (sb.). 

rarity (sb.), a wonder, novelty (51, 99) : "but the rarity of it b, — which 
is indeed almost beyond credit, — as many vouched rarities are " 
(Tempest, II. i. 58). 

round (v.), whisper, speak low : "you should have taught me that lesson, 
which I will round you in the ears withal" (125); "they're here 
with me already, whispering, rounding" (Winter's Tale, I. ii. 217). 
For derivation and other instances see Century. 

rule (v.), advise, counsel, commonly in the phrase "be ruled by me" 
(14) ; i. e., take my advice : "be ruled by me; depart in patience" 
(Comedy of Errors, III. i. 95). 

runagate (sb.), renegade, vagabond (89). See runagate and renegade in 
Century. This is an instance of "popular etymology." Mispro- 
nouncing the word, and ignorant of its real origin, people connected 
it with run and agate (apace), and therefore so spelled it : " white- 
livered runagate, what doth he there V (Richard III., IV. iv. 465). 

satyr (sb.) (59), a mythical monster. See Century for picture and full ac- 
count. Perhaps Bunyan had in mind Isaiah xiii. 21, and xxxiv. 14. 

scrabble (v.), occurs in the earlier editions at page 117, where the later 
editions have scramble. The verb is still in colloquial use. 

shift (v.), put out of the way, rid oneself of: "if they should meet with 
me in the dark, how should I shift them?" (44); "I shifted him 
away " (Othello, IV. i. 79). 

shrewd (adj.), sharp, hard, of things : "shrewd brushes " (62). See the 
derivation of this word in Century. 

slumber (sb.), a light sleep, a doze (41). See both the noun and the verb 
in Century. 

snib (v.), to reprove, snub (Bunyan's marginal note to page 118). 

sottish (adj.), stupid, foolish (24): "patience is sottish (Antony and 
Cleopatra, IV. xv. 79). See sot in Century. 

speed (sb.), progress, success, especially in the phrases "ill speed" (16) 
and "good speed " (Genesis xxiv. 12). 

spill (v.), destroy, kill: "there will I spill thy soul" (56) ; " So full of 
artless jealousy is guilt, it spills itself in fearing to be spilt " (Hamlet, 
IV. v. 20). Shakespeare usually has spill blood; Bunyan keeps the 
more general sense. 

stalking-horse (sb.), a device for stalking game, a hunting blind, a 
means of concealing one's design : " make of . . . religion a stalking- 



NOTES 187 

horse to get and enjoy the world" (98) ; "He uses his folly like a 
stalking-horse, and under the presentation of that he shoots his wit " 
{As You Like It, V. iv. 111). Compare the use of horse in clothes- 
horse. 

stomach (sb.), metaphorically, courage, fortitude: "this is the height 
of thy stomach " (119) ; " raised in me an undergoing stomach " (Tem- 
pest, I. ii. 157). 

swound (sb.), swoon (108), as commonly at the time. Cf. stound and 
astound with stun. Bunyan, in the first edition, has drownd as well 
as stounded. 

take (v.), To take with (5) means to please. The verb is also used intran- 
sitively in the sense of taking a road, going : " the other took directly 
up the way to Destruction " (41). 

true (adj.), honest, in the phrase a true man: " you are counted thieves 
already . . . therefore . . . you will not be found true men at the 
end" (39); "Whither away so fast? A true man or a thief that 
gallops so" (Love's Labour's Lost, IV. iii. 187). 

turncoat (sb.). The word is explained by the context (64). How does 
the meaning arise ? Find some other nouns compounded in this 
way (e. g., cutthroat). Is this the usual method of composition in 
English ? Compare wire-puller. 

vaunt (v.), boast ; used absolutely (121), as in : "the foe vaunts in the 
field" (Richard III., V. iii. 288). 

witch (sb.), used of either men or women : " Simon the witch " (98). See 
Century. 



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Ph.D., Professor and Head of the Department of English in the Uni- 
versity of Chicago. $0.40. 
[For Study, 1905, 1909 to 191 1. For Reading, 1906 to 1908.] 

Shakspere's Julius Caesar. 

Edited, with Introduction and Notes, by George C. D. Odell, Ph.D., 
Adjunct Professor of English in Columbia University. $0.40. 
[For Reading, 1909 to 1911. For Study, 1906 to 1908.] 

Shakspere's King Henry V.* 

Edited, with Notes and an Introduction, by George C. D. Odell, 
Ph.D., Adjunct Professor of English in Columbia University. $0.40. 
[For Reading, 1909 to 19".] 

Shakspere's The Merchant of Venice. 

Edited, with Introduction and Notes, by Francis B. Gummere, 
Ph.D., Professor of English in Haverford College. $0.40. 
[For Reading, 1906 to 191 1.] 

Shakspere's Twelfth Night.* 

Edited, with Notes and an Introduction, by John B. Henneman, 
Ph.D., Professor of English in the University of the South. $0.40. 
[For Reading, 1909 to 1911*] 



Longmans, Green, & Co.'s Publications. 



Longmans' English Classics* — Continued, 
Southey's Life of Nelson. 

Edited, with Introduction and Notes, by Edwin L. Miller, A.M., of 
the Englewood High School, Illinois. $0.60. 

Spenser's The Faerie Queene. (Selections.)* 

Edited, with Notes and an Introduction, by John Erskine, A.M., 
Professor of English in Amherst College. $0.40. 
[For Reading, 1909 to 1911O 

Tennyson's Uareth and Lynette, Lancelot and Elaine, 
The Passing of Arthur. 

Edited, with Introduction and Notes, by Sophie C. Hart, Associate 
Professor of Rhetoric in Wellesley College. $0.^.0. 
[For Reading, 1906 to ion.] 

Tennyson's The Princess. 

Edited, with Introduction and Notes, by George Edward Wood- 
berry, A.B., formerly Professor of Comparative Literature in Colum- 
bia University. $0.40. 

The Sir Roger de Coverley Papers. 

From "The Spectator." Edited by D 
Roxbury Latin School, Roxbury, Mass. 
[For Reading, 1906 to 191 1.] 



O. S. Lowell, A.M., of the 
$0. 40. 



Webster's First Bunker Hill Oration and Washington's 
Farewell Address.* 

Edited, with Introduction and Notes, by Fred Newton Scott, Ph.D., 
Professor of Rhetoric in the University of Michigan. $0.40. 
[For Study, 1909 to ion.] 



Prof. C. B. Bradley, University 
of California; Member of English 
Conference of the National Commit- 
tee of Ten : — "Admirably adapted to 
accomplish what you intend — to in- 
terest young persons in thoughtful 
reading of noble literature. The 
help given seems just what is needed; 
its generosity is not of the sort to 
make the young student unable to 
help himself. I am greatly pleased 



with the plan and with its execu- 
tion." 

Byron Groce, Master in English, 
Boston Latin School: — "As a series 
the books have two strong points ; 
there is a unity of method in editing 
that I have seen in no other series : 
the books are freer from objections 
in regard to the amount and kind of 
editing than any other series I 
know." 



LONGMANS' ENGLISH CLASSICS 



COMMENTS ON THE SERIES 

" It is the most attractive, most consistent, most practicable, and at the 
same time most scholarly series for college preparation yet produced." 
— Principal George H. Browne, Cambridge, Mass. 

" The series is admirably planned, the ' Suggestions to Teachers ' being 
a peculiarly valuable feature." — Prof. Katherine Lee Bates, Wellesley 
College. 

"The introductions and notes are beyond reproach, and the binding 
and typography are ideal. The American school-boy is to be congratu- 
lated that he at length may study his English from books in so attractive a 
dress." — George N. McKnight, Instructor in English, Cornell University. 

" It is the best edition that I know of. The editor points out precisely 
the things that a class should observe ; the questions are searching and sug- 
gestive ; the notes lucid and literary." — Prof. Martin W. Sampson, Univer- 
sity of Indiana, Blooming ion, Ind. 

" The Suggestions for Teachers are likely to be of great value, not 
only because many teachers need assistance in such work, but also because 
they must tend to introduce the uniformity of method that is hardly less 
valuable than the uniformity of the courses themselves." — The Educational 
Review, February, 1896. 

" Admirably adapted to accomplish what you intend— to interest young 
persons in thoughtful reading of noble literature. The help given seems 
just what is needed ; its generosity is not of the sort to make the young 
student unable to help himself. I am greatly pleased with the plan and 
with its execution." — Prof. C. B. Bradley, University of California ; 
Member of English Conference of the National Committee of Ten. 

" Differ as we may about the best way of teaching English literature 
we are likely to agree that this series is built in the main upon the right 
lines. It is unexceptionable in its outward form and habit. It gives us in 
every case a clearly printed text, sufficiently annotated, but not, as a rule, 
overweighted with pedantic comments ; a biographical and critical intro- 
duction ; a bibliography, through which the student can find his way to 
the literary and historical setting of the particular classic on which he is 
engaged ; a chronological table and some hints to teachers — often of a 
most suggestive and helpful character. In every case we thus have a 
book edited according to an excellent general plan."— Prof. H. S. Pan- 
coast in The Educational Review. 



Special terms for first introduction and regular supplies ivill be 
quoted upon application. Address 

LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO. 

91 and 93 Fifth Avenue = - New York 



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